Artists and Migration 1400-1850 : Britain, Europe and beyond [1 ed.] 9781443860956, 9781443899741

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Artists and Migration 1400-1850

Artists and Migration 1400-1850: Britain, Europe and beyond Edited by

Kathrin Wagner, Jessica David and Matej Klemenčič

Artists and Migration 1400-1850: Britain, Europe and beyond Edited by Kathrin Wagner, Jessica David and Matej Klemenčič This book first published 2017 Cambridge Scholars Publishing Lady Stephenson Library, Newcastle upon Tyne, NE6 2PA, UK British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Copyright © 2017 by Kathrin Wagner, Jessica David, Matej Klemenčič and contributors All rights for this book reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner. ISBN (10): 1-4438-9974-7 ISBN (13): 978-1-4438-9974-1

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgements ................................................................................... vii Foreword .................................................................................................. viii Eberhard König Introduction Chapter One ................................................................................................. 2 The Migrant Artist in Early Modern Times Kathrin Wagner Chapter Two .............................................................................................. 21 Migrations—Journeys into British Art: Reflections on an Exhibition Tim Batchelor Italy and Southern Europe Chapter Three ............................................................................................ 40 El Greco: The Migrant’s Challenge of Centrality as a State of Mind Anette Schaffer Chapter Four .............................................................................................. 53 From Stone to Wood: Claude Laprade (c.1675–1738) and His Journey from Provence to Portugal Sílvia Ferreira England and France Chapter Five .............................................................................................. 72 French Book Illumination in Time of War: Migrating Artists between France, Normandy and England from 1420 to1450 Julia Crispin

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Chapter Six ................................................................................................ 91 Flemish Immigrants in South-East England during the Sixteenth and Early Seventeenth Centuries: Their Roles as Trendsetters among the Culture of the Gentry Clemence Mathieu Chapter Seven.......................................................................................... 112 Re-evaluating the “Outsider”: Ford Madox Brown and Cultural Dialogues in Mid-Nineteenth Century Europe Laura MacCulloch The Empire and the New Americas Chapter Eight ........................................................................................... 128 The Real, Rejected and Virtual Travels of Marten de Vos Stephanie Porras Chapter Nine............................................................................................ 145 Johan Zoffany’s Painting Practice in Calcutta and Lucknow: The Technical Exploration of an Ad Hoc Studio Jessica David Chapter Ten ............................................................................................. 163 William Shiels: American Lessons Learned; Shaping the New Scottish Academy from 1826 Fiona V. Salvesen Murrell Chapter Eleven ........................................................................................ 183 Migrating Objects: John Henry Foley and Empire Fintan Cullen List of Illustrations .................................................................................. 196 Contributors ............................................................................................. 200 Index ........................................................................................................ 203

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

This book evolved from an international conference entitled “InterCulture 1400–1850. Art, Artists and Migration”, hosted by Liverpool Hope University in April 2013. The inspiration for the conference was, in turn, born from the exhibition “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” at Tate Britain in London the year before. The editors are deeply grateful to both institutions for providing the impetus behind this text as well as supporting its development over the past several years. We are particularly grateful to Tim Batchelor, Assistant Curator for British Art 1550–1750, at Tate Britain who acted as curator on the 2012 exhibition and provided guidance to both the conference and the book. Special thanks also goes to Eberhard König for his support of this project. We would like to extend our gratitude to the publishers and, finally, to the contributors for their hard work, enthusiasm and continued dedication to this book.

FOREWORD

When, in 2014, scholars from Germany, Slovenia and the United States were preparing to edit a comprehensive volume on artists and migration from the late Middle Ages to the nineteenth century they chose Britain as the epicentre for their publication, as for art, scholarship and much more it is still one of the most dynamic places in the world. For thousands of years people from different parts of Europe and later the British colonies have made their way to the Isles, which for a long period of time have been described as “angleterre” —the end or the last angle of the known earth. In mythology the major name used for these Isles and their leading country derived from an apocryphal son of King Priam, Brutus, who is said to have fled from Troy to settle in Bretagne and then Great Britain. In reality, Britain’s early history is one of colonization, beginning with the Romans and followed by the Angles and Saxons who came from what was to become part of Denmark and Germany. Their pagan tribes invaded the Celts whose insular culture—as a paradox of history—played an outstanding role in preserving the written tradition of Latin Christianity in script and codex. Later, French became the court language in London for centuries because William the Conqueror, a Norman from French Normandy, conquered England. Close connections with France also characterized the remaining years of the Middle Ages, culminating in the Hundred Years’ War during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries when the English were battling for their right to the French crown and their immense territory on the Continent. Unrest towards the rest of Europe and the world was a major characteristic of English culture ever since. Sailors and merchants, soldiers and noblemen sought to gain influence in a world explored by seafarers who needed safe places, strongholds which tended to become colonies on almost every coast they were to pass. During the Middle Ages, pilgrims were already travelling long distances from the British Isles to Jerusalem, Rome or Santiago de Compostela: when Henry VIII broke with Rome, a sense of cultural pilgrimage took over, at least for well-to-do Englishmen who made their Grand Tour and returned with accounts and physical mementoes of the Continent.

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At the same time, the Isles grew in attraction for continental artists who travelled the other way to disembark in London. Initially, they may have followed their patrons, gentlemen who served in the army when the English withdrew from France at the end of the Hundred Years’ War in the middle of the fifteenth century. When the War of the Roses was over more than a generation later, and peace promised a stable court life, sculptors like the Florentine Pietro Torrigiano made a much longer journey to settle in London. They were swiftly followed by Flemings like the Horenbout family from Ghent. In the latter case we do not know for sure whether they fled the upheavals of the Reformation or were attracted by the new splendor of Henry VIII and his court. Once more a paradox may be observed: prominent painters like Hans Holbein the Younger, who had lost a major part of their income when iconoclasm swept over Germany, gained a new reputation in England despite the fact that they could not produce the same subject matter that had previously sustained them, with iconoclasts being even more radical on the Isles. But a keen interest in portraiture in English society gave their work a new dimension, were it in easel painting like Holbein’s or portrait miniatures like the Horenbouts’. Portraiture, which would continue to feed great immigrant painters of the twentieth century, such as Frank Auerbach or Lucien Freud, remained important for foreign artists in England. Often, these painters did not simply import their skill and aesthetic from the Continent to the Isles, but also developed them in a way that they may not have done at home. One may well therefore discuss whether Anthony van Dyck created English Baroque portraiture or if British society and taste had their part in this great achievement. The excellent exhibition “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” at Tate Britain in 2012 presented a much broader range of migration experiences and motivations than those famous journeys of great painters and illuminators to Britain. In contrast to the predominantly British perspective of the exhibition, the essays included here stress an international point of view and the dynamics of cross-national, crossregional and cross-cultural migration of artists in early modern times. In this volume, Kathrin Wagner from Liverpool Hope University, Jessica David from the Yale Centre for British Art in New Haven and Matej Klemenþiþ from the University of Ljubljana present selected papers from the international art history conference “Inter-Culture 1400–1850. Art, Artists and Migration” that was held at Liverpool Hope University in 2013. It attracted a range of international scholars from Tate Britain, the Warburg Institute in London, the University of Cambridge, Yale University,

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the Free University Berlin, the New University of Lisbon, and other European and American institutions. Not everyone who spoke in Liverpool is represented in this volume, and some scholarship is now included which was not delivered there. A collection of essays cannot serve as a reader of history; these contributions therefore discuss the topic thematically rather than chronologically. This collection of texts considers early modern Britain and its long history as a migrant nation for artists and others alike as a vantage point from which to view what was simultaneously happening in the rest of Europe, the colonial territories, and other parts of the world. The international team of editors may be congratulated for engaging with such important art historical trends and discussions and for their insights on these crucial historical networks. Eberhard König Berlin

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER ONE THE MIGRANT ARTIST IN EARLY MODERN TIMES KATHRIN WAGNER

Migration is a phenomenon as old as mankind. It existed and exists in any society, any period and any social class and is not—as often assumed —an occurrence that arises only as a consequence of the industrialisation in the nineteenth century. In early modern times, painters, sculptors and architects frequently left their place of origin to live and work far away from home. Migration research is commonly conducted within History, Politics and the Social Sciences. In this chapter, I discuss established models and theories of the phenomenon and apply them specifically to the migration of Western European artists during the early modern period. Individual migration patterns help to compile empirical data towards the exploration of common trends and tendencies. The periods before and after the actual act of migration are equally important to analyse. The most significant aspect of the pre-migrational phase is the motivation of artists to migrate, establishing whether it was a voluntary, half-voluntary or coerced act. Contributing factors of such a decision may have been financial, the wish to improve artistic skills, be part of a professional network that required the artist to work abroad, or due to hardship caused by religious or political prosecution. Analysis of the post-migrational phase is equally important as it reveals the status of the artist in the new environment as well as their motivation for staying in a foreign place or returning home.

Museums and Galleries Migration, and particularly migration among artists, is only occasionally the subject of exhibitions or displays in museums and galleries. Museums that commemorate migration and its impact are often founded in regions that were severely affected by a decline in the number

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of residents, such as Växjö in Southern Sweden (Smålands Museum) or Güssing/Burgenland in Austria (Auswanderermuseum—Josef Reichl). The Maritime Museum in Liverpool examines the effects of migration in its permanent display. The museum’s temporary exhibition “On their own— Britain’s child migrants” (2014–15) focused on the period between 1869 and 1967 when British children were sent to various parts of the Commonwealth, such as Canada and Australia (Hahn 2012, 11). The Museum in Dudelange in Luxemburg focuses on the immigration to that country since the Middle Ages, and is located close to the site where Italian migrants once lived. The most complex representation of the subject can be found in North American museums, in regions that were strongly affected by arriving migrants. The museum in Ellis Island, the Tenement Museum on the Lower East side in New York City and the Pier 21 Museum in Halifax, Canada are but a few. Migration among artists is only occasionally a topic for exhibitions and museum displays and often gets presented as a secondary topic, such as in the exhibition “Dynasties. Painting in Tudor and Jacobean England 1530–1630” at Tate Britain in 1995/96 (Hearn 1995). The first exhibition that was entirely dedicated to the topic of artists and migration was held at the same institution in 2012 and was entitled “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” (Carey-Thomas 2012). It offered a unique perspective on the history of British art that has been affected by successive waves of migration during the last five hundred years.

Models and Theories Etymologically, the word migration goes back to the Latin word migrare, which can be translated as to migrate but also as to wander or to roam. In other European languages, such as German, the term migration has only been used since the early twentieth century when it replaced the more common Wanderung (Kulischer/Kulischer 1932, 33). According to Hahn (2012, 26) it is important to make a distinction between journey and migration. The latter term should be used if the person travelling gives up the place of residence in order to look for a new one. Leading scholars in the field have offered various definitions of the term migration (Ravenstein 1885/89, Heberle 1972, Köllmann 1976, Tilly 1990 etc.). This diversity in interpretation illustrates the plurality of the subject. In 1885 the German-English Geographer Ernst Georg Ravenstein laid the foundation stone for any future research on migration. In his Laws of Migration (1885/89, 181ff.) he classified five different groups of migrants: the local migrants, the short-journey migrants, the long-journey

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migrants, migrants by stages, and temporary migrants. Heberle (1972, 69) questions the existence of general laws and establishes specific typologies of migration (Typologie der Wanderung). He also introduced the aspects of voluntary, half-voluntary and coerced migration and counts workrelated migration as voluntary. He considered migration, with a political or religious impetus as forced migration (Heberle 1972, 71). The American historian and sociologist Charles Tilly distinguishes colonizing, coerced, circular, chain and career migration, but also underlines that “the five different types overlap somewhat, but differ on the average with respect to both retention of positions in sending networks and permanence of the move involved” (Tilly 1990, 88). Tilly also stresses the importance of social networks, and that migration should not be seen as a homogeneous experience. Family, professional or ethnic networks can positively support a new member of the community. But networks can also create or increase social disparity. Tilly states that members of migrant groups often exploited one another as they would not have dared to exploit the native born. According to the author, inclusion also constitutes exclusion. The theories that have been established to classify movements of migration can be divided into two main groups: 1) those that have an economic focus and discuss migration in relation to the employment market and the law of supply and demand; and 2) those that discuss political, sociological and/or cultural aspects of migration (Hahn 2012, 29–30). One of the most important economic theories to be applied to migration is the Push-and-Pull theory. The push factor indicates that a financial crisis, unemployment, political conflict or ecological catastrophe can force people to leave their place of origin. They get attracted to other regions or cities with a prosperous economy, which is described as the pull factor. Since the 1960s, this concept has also been applied in studies of historical migration that predate the nineteenth century. Recently the neoclassical economic model of the Push-and-Pull theory has been questioned (Parnreiter 2000, 27). The main point of the critique was the exclusive focus on supply and demand of human labour. It was also doubted that poverty was the main factor for migration since historical and sociological studies show that it is not the poorest members of a community who migrate. Poverty can be one element that supports the decision to migrate but other factors, such as family or professional networks, can also influence people in their decision (Hahn 2012, 31).

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The Artist-Migration-Model Many artists lived in various places before arriving indirectly at their final destination; their act of migration was conducted in stages. A oneway and definite movement of migration includes the artist’s death in the new place of residence. Another consequence of the indirect movement in stages could be the return to the place of origin, described by the term circular act of migration. Those artists returning home can be divided into those who lived temporarily abroad (up to five years) and those who lived there on a long-term basis.

Fig.1-1 Artist-Migration-Model.

However, a circular movement, with the artist returning home, does not necessarily end the migration story. In some cases, artists departed more than once from their place of origin. As in the case of Holbein the Younger, which will be discussed later in this chapter, these multiple departures can still end in a definite act of migration.

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Heberle’s classification (1972, 71) with the three different types of migration—voluntary, half-voluntary and coerced—is useful for the analysis of this specific professional group. He describes work related motives for migration as voluntary. Many artists, who had been successful in their place of origin, migrated on a temporary or long term basis to broaden their horizons, to raise their artistic profile, or to better their fortunes. One of the most prominent early modern migration stories is that of Hans Holbein the Younger (Fig.1-2). Until 1526, he had successfully worked in Basel, making his mark with portraits of humanist scholars, among them Erasmus of Rotterdam. With Erasmus’s recommendation, Holbein easily established himself as an artist in the circle around Thomas Moore and quickly built a reputation that promoted him to King’s Painter under Henry VIII. Holbein was initially eager to keep his options open in Basel and to be able to return. As a citizen of Basel he was allowed to be absent for a maximum of two years, and so as not to challenge his citizenship he returned in 1528, but then came back to England in 1531/32 after encountering violent iconoclastic riots (Foister 2006, 13). In Holbein’s case one could argue that his motive for migration was voluntary at the beginning and, as it was conducted in stages, halfvoluntary after 1530 when his decision to migrate to England for good was also influenced by the difficult political and religious situation in Basel. After becoming an English denizen, Holbein died in London in the late autumn of 1543.

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Fig.1-2 Migration patterns of Hans Holbein the Younger (c. 1497–1543).

Voluntary Migration Voluntary migration was popular among those artists who were part of the “circulating elites” (Hahn 2012, 87). The migration of academics, scholars and educational travellers was extremely important for the dissemination of knowledge. Italy, as the birthplace of the Renaissance, became the place to be for many foreign artists at the beginning of the sixteenth century. The French painter Geoffrey Tory, who had lived in Italy for several years, declared in 1529 in his Champ Fleury: “The Italians are sovereign in perspective, painting and sculpture…we have no one here to be compared with Leonardo da Vinci, Donatello, Raphael of Urbino or Michelangelo” (Burke 1998, 80). Temporary migration during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was not only conducted from north to south but also vice versa. With an unusual amount of documentary material, it is possible to reconstruct the life of the Lombard painter Zanetto Bugatto and his patterns of migration (Fig.1-3).

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Fig.1-3 Migration patterns of Zanetto Bugatto († 1476).

Bugatto, a key figure in the discussion of Netherlandish influence on Italian painting, was trained in Rogier van der Weyden’s workshop in Brussels between 1460 and 1463 (Syson 1996, 300). This stay is recorded in a letter from Bianca Maria Visconti, Duchess of Milan and wife of Francesco Sforza. She wrote to Rogier on 7 May 1463, thanking him for teaching the artist “tucto quello intendevati nel mestiero vostro” (Ibid.). Syson indicates that Bugatto’s pictures looked more “Netherlandish” and he assumes that this was regarded as positive (Ibid.). The migration patterns for Bugatto (Fig.1-3) refer to this three-year period but we know that he lived abroad more often. On 6 March 1468, the artist returned to Milan from a longer stay in Paris, where he had painted the portrait of Bona of Savoy, the future wife of Galezzo Maria Sforza. Syson assumes that on this stay he must have seen and been influenced by pictures of Fouquet and other French painters. The migration of artists as part of the circulating elites was not always limited to a few years, as the examples of eighteenth century artists Mengs and Tischbein illustrate. The German neoclassical painter Anton Raphael Mengs studied under his father in Dresden but spent most of his life as an artist in Rome, where he died in 1779 (von Klenze 1906; Fig.1-4).

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Fig.1-4 Migration patterns of Anton Raphael Mengs (1728–79).

Together with his friend, the archeologist and art critic Johann Joachim Winckelmann, Mengs was crucial to the dissemination of neoclassical ideas in Northern Europe. In 1761 he completed his painting of the Parnassus at the Villa Albani in Rome and also worked as a portrait painter in Rome, competing with Pompeo Batoni, the leading portraitist in the city. Many educational travellers on their Grand Tour commissioned a portrait to bring home proof of their stay in Italy. The German painter Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein financed his first stay in Rome in 1779 with a bursary from the Kassel Academy (von Klenze 1906; Fig.1-5).

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Fig.1-5 Migration patterns of Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein (1751–1829).

When he ran out of money in 1781, he spent two years in Zurich. Tischbein came back to Rome in 1783 after Goethe had arranged another bursary for him, this time paid by Ernst II, Duke of Gotha-Altenburg. During this second stay in Italy, that lasted sixteen years, Tischbein became a friend of Goethe. The artist is most remembered for Goethe’s Portrait as a Traveller in the Roman Campagna (Moffit 1983). Between 1789 and 1799 Tischbein was director of Naples’ Art Academy, the Academia di Belle Arti. He left the city to escape French troops in 1799 and died in 1829 in Eutin, Northern Germany. A coerced return, in contrast to the more common coerced departure, is a rare occurrence among artists, since the return to the home country is normally a voluntary or half-voluntary decision, often made because of personal or financial reasons. Tischbein’s migration story can therefore be described as follows: it started with voluntary movement, was conducted in stages and was long term. Due to the artist’s coerced return to Germany it was circular. The matrimonial policy among European noble families also enforced mobility among artists and craftsmen. Italian-born Beatrice of Aragon, who was married to Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary, appointed several artists and craftsmen at her court, among them Verrocchio and Filippino Lippi. Italian Renaissance elements were used for building and

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decorating the palaces in Buda and Visegrád (Burke 1998). Most of these voluntary movements were circular and temporary, limited to five years or less. But it was not only new marriages that enforced the appointments of foreign artists at royal courts. Neil Cuddy (1995, 11) describes the role and importance of art at the English court in the early sixteenth century: “…dynastic preoccupations shaped that elite’s culture. Part of that culture, new and increasingly significant, was the commissioning, collecting, and display, of paintings”. For most of his reign, Henry VIII competed with the French and Habsburg kings, Francis I and Charles V, not only for wealth, but also in the pursuit of splendour and fashion. With Leonardo in France and Titian in Madrid, Henry was under pressure to appoint a first class painter at his court (Ibid. 14) Holbein’s main contribution to the establishment of the dynastic English elite was his unique portrait style. The famous Whitehall portrait of Henry VIII contributed to the establishment of Tudor legitimacy. But the King also appointed a number of European painters who specialized in creating miniature portraits, such as Lucas Horenbout, who was employed as King’s Painter and Court Miniaturist from 1525 until his death in 1544. Horenbout was exceptionally well paid, and had an even higher income than Holbein (Strong 1983, 84). The Flemish Renaissance miniaturist Levina Teerlinc came to England in 1545 after Holbein’s death and served as Royal Painter to Henry VIII. Teerlinc never returned to her place of origin but died in London in 1576. The list of foreign artists who voluntarily came to the Tudor court and died in London is long, and includes artists such as Hans Eworth, Steven van Herwijck and Steven van der Meulen. Many of them found it difficult to make a living at home and came to England to better their fortunes. In his Schilder-boek of 1604, Karel van Mander writes about the artist Lucas Cornelis de Kock: As things did not go well for him in Leiden, because he could hardly make a living from painting, and as he understood that art at that time was valued and much sought after in the England of Henry the Eighth, he travelled there with his wife and children, of whom he had at least seven or eight.1

1

Lucas dewijl het hem te Leyden onghelegen was, overmits dat uyt t’schilderen den cost qualijck wilde vallen, verstaende dat ten tijde van den Conigh van Engelandt Henricus de 8e. de Const daer in’t landt in weerden en wel begheert was, vertrock hy derwaerts met Wijf en kinderen, die hy wel tot 7. oft 8. in getal hadde […] (Van Mander 2014).

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We know that de Kock substantially improved his finances in England, and his work was very sought after, he even became King’s Painter. It is reported by van Mander that when the Earl of Leicester visited the Netherlands he bought many of his works to take them back to England (van Mander 2014). It is unclear whether he returned to the Netherlands to retire but we do know that he died in Leiden around 1552 (RKD 2014). As Karen Hearn (1995, 9) pointed out, artists living and working in England did not simply sign their work with their name but also with a hint as to their origin. In 1545–56 the German artist Gerlach Flicke signed his work as “Gerlacus flicus Germanus”, Quentin Metsys with “ANT” for Antwerp in 1583 and Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger added to his signature “Brugiensis” for “from Bruges” (Ibid.). Gheeraerts’ example is particularly interesting since he came to England as a child but insisted on his Flemish heritage for more than forty years; this could imply that artists with foreign roots were likely to be more successful when they explicitly outlined these. We still do not know much about the training artists received in England, but it is known that foreign artistic networks were tightly knit. John de Critz the Elder, for example, was apprenticed in London to a fellow Netherlander, Lucas de Heere. But there is also evidence of successful foreign artists who did not consider a stay in England as a worthwhile option for their career. In 1611 and 1612, Prince Henry tried to appoint Michiel Jansz. van Miereveld, a very successful portrait artist from Delft. Miereveld was unwilling to stay for longer than three months, and since no common agreement could be found the negotiations ended (Hearn 2001, 123). The success of foreign artists in England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries might also be related to the absence of an Academy of Art in the country. In 1680, London did not have an official Academy as was already established in Paris or Brussels (Glanville & Glanville 2004, 18). The informal club of artists and designers, called the Society of Painters, led to the foundation of Keller’s and Thornhill’s academies. Only at the turn of the century did the employment of English artists increase, enforced by a new nationalism that is evidenced in a comment about the 1714 monument to the Stuarts in the Strand: “Something must be done in England that strangers may not say that we think only of eating and drinking (but) admire us for Polite people in the Arts” (Friedman 1982, 14).

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Half-Voluntary Migration The idea of Transnationalism was established during the 1980s, and originated initially within the political sciences (Glick Schiller 2004). It explores the idea of the migrant living within two different worlds at the same time. New means of communication and media allow migrants in the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries to continue participating in the life of their originating society: they become transnational individuals who live in transnational spaces. Bade (2004) and Harzig/Hoerder (2009) criticized this approach as inappropriate for the historical research of migration as it is strongly reliant on the idea of national states. Transculturalism denotes the competence to live in two or more differing cultures and, in the process, to create a transcultural space which permits moves and linkages back to the evolving space of origin, entry into the evolving space of destination, connections to other spaces and the everyday praxes of métissage, fusion, negotiation, conflict and resistance. Strategic transcultural competence involves capabilities to plan and act life-projects in multiple contexts and to choose. In the process of transculturation, individuals and societies change themselves by integrating diverse lifeways into a new dynamic everyday culture. Subsequent interactions will change this new—and transitory—culture (Harzig/Hoerder 2009, 84–85).

A simplified concept of Transculturalism is present among builders and stonemasons of the fifteenth, sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The new Italian style that was spreading into central Europe also meant an increasing demand for Italian architects and builders. Their family networks were solid, and strong ties to their homeland were kept alive over several generations. Master builders often recruited new apprentices in their own home-towns. These intense ties to the place of origin were particularly strong among the builders and plasterers from the region around Milan and Lake Como. Many “magister murariorum” left cities after their building projects were finished, but a few bought land or real estate and acquired civic rights. Francesco Piazzoli migrated in 1629 from Milan to Vienna and achieved the title of Master Craftsman in 1642. He was heavily involved in the building of the city’s fortification, and stayed in Vienna throughout his life (Hajdecki 1906, 70).

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Fig.1-6 Migration patterns of Giovanni Simonetti (1652–1716).

The stucco plasterer (stuccatore) Giovanni Simonetti was born in 1652 in Grisons, Switzerland (Fig.1-6). As part of a transnational network of masons and stucco plasterers, he is first recorded in 1668 as a journeyman bricklayer in Prague (Pfister 1993). In 1680 he finished the stucco decorations of the St. Elisabeth chapel in the Cathedral of Breslau (presentday Wrocáaw). He was then appointed as Royal Stucco Plasterer at the court in Berlin-Brandenburg. Between 1698 and 1706, he worked as leading and co-ordinating stucco plasterer on his most prestigious project, the stucco decorations of the Berlin city castle. Owing to the demolition of the building in 1950, all of his Berlin works are lost but he left his artistic mark on various other buildings in Eastern Germany, such as the Leipzig Stock Exchange (1687) and Köpenick castle (1684–90). In 1689 Simonetti became a member of the local guild. His migration story started as halfvoluntary, since he was part of a transnational network that sent young Grison apprentices to major building works in Europe. It was indirect, or conducted in stages, since the artist lived and worked in various places before settling down in Berlin and can also be described as a one-way movement. The act of migration became definite when the artist died in his last place of residence in Berlin in 1716.

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Coerced Migration Coerced migration among artists was rare but, did nevertheless exist. It was often evoked by times of hardship as a consequence of political and/or religious persecution. The violent plundering during the Sack of Rome in 1527 led to the emigration of various artists (von der Mülbe 1904). Rosso Fiorentino, who had lost most of his possessions, was invited by Francis I to live and work at his court in Fontainebleau (Fig.1-7). Francesco Primaticcio from Bologna followed him in 1532, and also contributed to the extensive decorative programme at Fontainebleau castle. Even after Rosso’s death in 1540, young Italian painters such as Niccolo dell’Abate, were recruited south of the Alps. Only the group of artists that emerged around 1594, and that was later called the Second School of Fontainebleau, was shaped by Franco-Flemish artists, such as Ambroise Dubois, Toussaint Dubreuil and Martin Fréminet. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Tudor and Jacobean courts welcomed Flemish and Dutch Protestant artists who were persecuted by the Habsburg regime. John de Critz the Elder was born in Antwerp in 1551/52 but his parents brought him to England shortly afterwards. A reference from 1571 indicates that the family had come “for religion”, and were “of the Douche church”. In the same year, de Critz was apprenticed to Lucas de Heere who came “hither fyve yeres ago for religion”, but returned after the Pacification of Ghent in 1576 (Hearn 2001, 12). Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger was born in Bruges in 1561 or 62 and came to England in 1568 when his parents were also escaping the persecutions instigated by the Duke of Alba. The young Marcus was most probably trained by his father, Marcus Gheeraerts the Elder, who painted the large altarpiece in the Church of Our Lady in Bruges, and which was destroyed by iconoclasts in 1566. Marcus the Elder married Susanna, the sister of John de Critz in 1571, and Marcus the Younger wed Magdalen de Critz, the sister of his stepmother in 1590. These marriages illustrate how tightly knit the incomer communities were. Karen Hearn stresses the importance of the collaboration among these alien craftspeople that were not always welcomed by the indigenous community (Ibid). When James VI succeeded Elizabeth on the English throne in 1603, John de Critz was appointed almost immediately as Serjeant Painter to the King. A reference from 25 April 1604 indicates “John de Critts born in Flanders and his heirs” were granted denization (Ibid. 122).

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Fig.1-7 Migration patterns of Rosso Fiorentino (1494–1540).

The existence of shared payment records to de Critz and Gheeraerts the Elder strongly suggests they worked in collaboration. The second generation of Netherlandish artists who arrived in England after 1615 came for economic reasons and to advance their careers, among them Paul van Somer and Daniel Mytens: they no longer had to flee political and religious persecution. The Bohemian etcher Wenceslaus Hollar had to leave his home-town of Prague due to the Sack of Prague during The Thirty Years War (Fig.18). He lived in Stuttgart, Strasbourg and Cologne before moving to England in 1636, following an invitation by the art collector Thomas Howard, twenty-first Earl of Arundel (Godfrey 1994). During the English Civil War, Hollar lived and worked in Antwerp and only returned to London in 1652. This adds a unique aspect to Hollar’s migration pattern since for political reasons he was forced to migrate twice in his life. The second act of migration, however, was temporary and circular as Hollar returned to London. In 1668, Charles II sent him to Tangier to make drawings and etchings of the town. After his return to England he continued producing etchings such as the large plate of Edinburgh from 1670. Although he lived in poverty at the end of his life, he never left England, and died in London in 1677.

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Fig.1-8 Migration patterns of Wenceslaus Hollar (1607–77).

The artists analysed in this chapter derive from various locations spread out across Europe. With the help of the Artist-Migration-Model, it is possible to categorize each unique migration story and to follow up trends and tendencies of migration among western European artists in the early modern period. This allows us to draw the following conclusions. 1) The majority of artists whose migration predated the industrial revolution left their place of origin voluntarily. The main motivation to migrate on a temporary or long-term basis was to better their fortunes and to improve artistic skills. 2) Artists who migrated voluntarily can be considered part of the socalled “circulating elites” (Hahn 2012, 87). They were either attracted to a new place by a new patron or employer (Hollar), sent by a commissioner back home to receive training (Bugatto), or migrated voluntarily to live and work in a new place of their choice that was a hotspot of the contemporary art scene (Mengs). 3) Half-voluntary migration existed when the artist was sent by a sending network (Simonetti), or when his motivation to leave was partly inspired by the wish to improve his professional career and

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partly enforced by political circumstances in the place of origin (Holbein the Younger). 4) Coerced migration among early modern artists is comparably rare, and was often a consequence of political or religious persecution (Fiorentino, Gheeraerts). 5) A migrant artist was normally held in high esteem in his new place of residence. Foreign artists often stress their origin when signing a work (Flicke, Gheeraerts) but, owing to their popularity among patrons, their presence was often not appreciated among local artists and craftsmen. Social networks within the incomer communities therefore played a vital role. 6) Due to their improved status, many migrant artists did not return to their place of origin but died in their new place of residence (Holbein, Fiorentino, Hollar, Simonetti, Mengs).

Bibliography Campbell, Stephen J. and Stephen J. Milner, eds. 2004. Artistic Exchange and Cultural Translation in the Italian Renaissance City. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Carey-Thomas, Lizzie, ed. 2012. Migrations—Journeys into British Art. London: Tate Publishing. Bade, Klaus, J. 2004. Sozialhistorische Migrationsforschung. Göttingen: GRIN. Burke, Peter. 1998. The European Renaissance. Centres and Peripheries. Oxford: Blackwell. Cuddy, Neil. 1995. “Dynasty and Display: Politics and Painting in England, 1530–1630.” In Dynasties. Painting in Tudor and Jacobean England 1530–1630, edited by Karen Hearn, 11–20. London: Tate Publishing. Foister, Susan. 2006. Holbein in England. London: Tate Publishing. Friedmann, Terry. 1984. James Gibbs Architect ‘a man of great fame’. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Glanville, Gordon and Philippa Glanville. 2004. “The art market and merchant patronage in London 1680–1720.” In City Merchants and the Arts 1670–1720, edited by Mireille Galinou, 11–24. London: Oblong. Glick Schiller, Nina. 2004. “Transnationality.” In A companion to the Anthropology of Politics, edited by David Nugent and Joan Vincent, 448–467. Malden/MA: Blackwell. Godfrey, Richard. 1994. Wenceslaus Hollar: A Bohemian Artist in England. New Haven and London: Yale University Press.

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Hahn, Sylvia. 2012. Historische Migrationsforschung. Frankfurt/New York: Campus. Hajdecki, Alexander. 1906. “Die Dynasten-Familien der italienischen Bau- und Maurermeister der Barocke in Wien.” In Berichte und Mitteilungen des Altertums-Vereines zu Wien XXXIX: 1–83. Harzig, Christiane and Dirk Hoerder. 2009. What is Migration History? Cambridge: Polity. Hearn, Karen, ed. 1995. Dynasties. Painting in Tudor and Jacobean England 1530–1630. London: Tate Publishing. Hearn, Karen. 2001. “Insiders or Outsiders? Overseas-born artists at the Jacobean court.” In From Strangers to Citizen. The Integration of Immigrant Communities in Britain, Ireland and Colonial America, 1550–1750, edited by Randolph Vigne, and Charles Littleton, 117– 126. London: The Huguenot Society of Great Britain and Ireland. Heberle, Rudolf. 1972. “Zur Typologie der Wanderungen.” In Bevölkerungsgeschichte, edited by Wolfgang Köllmann and Peter Marschalck, 69–75. Köln: Kiepenheuer and Witsch. Hervey, Mary F.S. 1910. “Notes on a Tudor Painter: Gerlach Flicke-II.” The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs 17 (87): 147–149. Köllmann, Wolfgang. 1976. “Versuch des Entwurfs einer historischsoziologischen Wanderungstheorie.” In Soziale Bewegung und politische Verfassung. Beiträge zur Geschichte der modernen Welt, edited by Ulrich Engelhardt, Volker Sellin, and Horst Stuke, 260–268. Stuttgart: Klett. Kulischer, Alexander, and Eugene M. Kulischer. 1932. Kriegs–und Wanderzüge. Weltgeschichte als Völkerbewegung. Berlin: Springer. Landsberger, Franz. 1908. Wilhelm Tischbein: Ein Künstlerleben des 18. Jahrhunderts. Leipzig: Klinkhardt & Biermann. Miedema, Hessel, ed. 1994. Karel van Mander: The Lives of the Illustrious Netherlandish and German Artists. Doornspijk: Davaco Spring. Moffit, John F. 1983. “The Poet and the Painter: J.H.W. Tischbein’s ‘Perfect Portrait’ of Goethe in the Campagna 1786–87.” The Art Bulletin 65 (3): 440–450. Parnreiter, Christof. 2000. “Theorien und Forschungsansätze zu Migration.” In Internationale Migration. Die globale Herausforderung des 21. Jahrhunderts, edited by Karl Husa, Christof Parnreiter, and Irene Stacher, 25–51. Wien: Südwind. Pfister, Max. 1993. Baumeister aus Graubünden—Wegbereiter des Barock. Die auswärtige Tätigkeit der Bündner Baumeister und Stukkateure in

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Süddeutschland, Österreich und Polen vom 16. bis zum 18. Jahrhundert. Regensburg: Schnell und Steiner. Ravenstein, Ernst Georg. 1885/89. “The Laws of Migration.” Journal of the Statistical Society: 167–235 and 241–305. RKD. 2015. “Lucas Cornelisz. genaamd Kunst.” accessed 8 March 2015. https://rkd.nl/en/explore/artists/18409 Röttken, Steffi. 1990. Anton Raphael Mengs 1728–1779. Munich: Hirmer. Strong, Roy. 1983. Artists of the Tudor Court: The Portrait Miniature Rediscovered 1520–1620. London: V&A. Syson, Luke. 1996. “Zanetto Bugatto. Court Portraitist in Sforza Milan.” The Burlington Magazine 138 (1118): 300–308. Tilly, Charles. 1990. “Transplanted Networks.” In Immigration Reconsidered. History, Sociology and Politics, edited by Virginia Yans–McLaughlin, 79–95. New York/Oxford: Oxford University Press. Van Mander, Karel. 2014. Het Schilder–Boek. Kindle edition. Von der Mülbe, Wolf Heinrich. 1904. Die erste Schule von Fontainebleau: Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Malerei. Breslau: Fleischmann. Von Klenze, Camillo. 1906. “The growth of interest in the early Italian Masters. From Tischbein to Ruskin.” Modern Philology IV (2): 1–68. Zerner, Henri, ed. 1979. The Illustrated Bartsch: Italian artists of the sixteenth century School of Fontainebleau. Derrimut: Abaris.

CHAPTER TWO MIGRATIONS— JOURNEYS INTO BRITISH ART: REFLECTIONS ON AN EXHIBITION TIM BATCHELOR

On the 31 January 2012 the exhibition “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” opened at Tate Britain in London, home of the national collection of British art from the sixteenth-century to the present day. The show looked at how the migration of artists to Britain has shaped British art over the past four hundred and fifty years. This essay will examine how the exhibition was conceived, convey the rationale behind its structure, and offer some insights into some of the issues and decisions faced by the curatorial team in organising it. Ideas of “Britishness” and British art, how this has been defined and the impact it had on shaping the national collection will also be touched on. In doing so, the earlier sections of exhibition covering the period 1560–1780 will be the focus, referring to individual issues and concerns. The exhibition was the idea of Penelope Curtis, who was appointed Director of Tate Britain in 2010, and was an example of her new approach and engagement with the Tate collection and the exhibition programme at Tate Britain. As she stated in interviews given around the time of her appointment, this was an opportunity to “ask the question, ‘What is British art?’ and think how we can widen people’s understanding of it.” (Higgins 2010). She also wanted to consider the Tate collection as a whole and move away from the traditional distinction between the historic collection and the modern and contemporary collection: I want it to be bolder about what it is: a museum of British art that comes up to the present day, she says. That will involve displaying the old alongside the new in a “more wholehearted way” (Higgins 2010).

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It was also a case of seeing connections within the collection across time, of what unites and coheres within British art rather than the traditional split between the old and the new: I talked about the importance of the collection, which runs from historic to contemporary art. The works should be better integrated, with a conversation between the old and the new (Bailey 2010).

This approach led to the programming of a number of collection-based trans-historical thematic exhibitions—exhibitions made up of works drawn from the Tate collection, which took a particular theme or issue as a prism through which to explore British art across time. The theme of migration was chosen as the first of these shows. It was particularly apt in that it cut to the heart of questions of nationality and identity in relation to British art and the remit of the gallery. As Curtis states in her Foreword to the catalogue accompanying the exhibition: On arriving as the new Director of Tate Britain I proposed looking at the collection in relation to its troubling name. The national collection of British art is frequently not actually British, and yet is happily, even unthinkingly, accommodated with our galleries. This fact is especially striking for the earlier part of the collection, where most of our paintings are by artists who came from overseas. The simple premise, then, of this alternative view of the collection is that the national collection of British art is often called British simply by custom or convention. Some of these artists made their homes here, while others left, and yet their work is “British”, as it were, by adoption. Making art British, or making British art, are divergent avenues which often intersect (Curtis 2012, 8).

The theme was also one that was topical with concerns over immigration being regularly aired in the British press, but also had a longer history within British culture and society fulfilling the aim of uniting the historic and contemporary. Penelope Curtis asked Lizzie Carey-Thomas, Curator of Contemporary Art at Tate Britain, to work on the show and lead a team of curators with specialisms in different periods to cover its wide chronological range. The team comprised a total of seven curators, an unusually large curatorial team for such an exhibition, and a departure from the single curatorial vision that underpin most exercises. Given the range and potential scope of the show, and the number of curators involved who had a deep enthusiasm in their particular areas of interest, there was a sustained period of discussion regarding the curatorial approach, how the exhibition might be organised, and the range and type of content. One of the early discussions

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was whether the exhibition should show works of art that depict the act of migration. There are a number of paintings in the Tate collection that fulfil this remit, such as Richard Redgrave’s The Emigrant’s Last Sight of Home (1858), William McTaggart’s The Emigrants (1883–89) and Ford Madox Brown’s The Last of England (1864–66), the watercolour replica for the well-known painting in Birmingham Museum & Art Gallery dating from 1852–55 which was inspired by the emigration of the Pre-Raphaelite sculptor Thomas Woolner who left England for the goldfields of Australia in 1852, the year that around 369,000 emigrants left Britain for new lives overseas (Fowle 2000). Yet the works that are relevant date mainly from the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and show migration away from Britain rather than to it, and there are too few to make a single coherent gallery let alone a whole exhibition. It was also suggested that the historic and contemporary works should be hung in direct juxtaposition, based on certain themes that connect them to show a continuation across time—such as artists fleeing religious persecution. Yet although the biographies of artists have a commonality, their histories are not necessarily reflected in their paintings, which would have been of differing subject matter and styles, giving little sense of coherence in the display. There was little time for discussion and development, however, as the project team had just over a year before the scheduled opening of the exhibition, rather than the usual minimum of at least two years to plan and organise a large-scale exhibition. After grappling with various approaches, it was decided that a more straightforward chronological structure was the most appropriate. Because of the limitations of space and of the collection, the exhibition could not be comprehensive in its scope and so would focus on particular moments in time based on individual themes. The starting point was portraiture of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the earliest works in the Tate collection, followed by the introduction of new genres in British art in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries—both curated by Karen Hearn. The show then moved to a section looking at British art in relation to Italy, Neoclassicism and the founding of the Royal Academy in the mid eighteenth century curated by Tim Batchelor. There was then a slight gap in the chronology, jumping forward to the late nineteenth century with a section on dialogues between Britain, France and America. Emma Chambers who also worked on the following sections examining Jewish migrant artists in Britain in the early twentieth century, and refugees from Nazi Europe in the 1930s and 1940s curated this part of the exhibition. Post-war sections focused on “Artists in Pursuit of an International Language”, curated by Leyla Fakhr, reviewing modernist discourse in

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relation to migrant artists in 1950s and 60s; “The Stateless Artist”, curated by Lena Mohamed, with artists of the 1960s and 70s contesting ideas of fixed national identity; and “New Diasporic Voices” curated by Paul Goodwin, examining black art from the 1980s. The exhibition ended with recent works by contemporary artists who use the moving image as the medium of their work, a versatile tool that reflected the transitory nature of the show. Curated by Lizzie Carey-Thomas, the works revisited the various themes and issues brought up throughout the exhibition, such as Steve McQueen’s Static (2009), a film of the Statue of Liberty in New York which probes ideas of freedom and migration. Whilst the approach was taken to have a chronological sequence of themed sections, the desire remained to present an overall sense of cohesiveness and connection between the different sections and across time. This was achieved through a more open structure in the build of the galleries. The exhibition took place in the level two exhibition galleries at Tate Britain, a flexible space in which temporary walls can be built to create and shape the gallery size and configuration, and the route and experience of the visitor within it. In designing the layout of the exhibition, it was decided that the contemporary works should form the centre core of the space, with the other sections surrounding this in chronological order in an anti-clockwise direction. This outer sequence would be quite open so that, for example, on entering the space in the opening section on sixteenth and seventeenth century portraiture the visitor would be able view right through, via Johan Zoffany’s portrait of Mrs Woodhull (c.1770), to the portrait Mrs Carl Meyer and her Children (1896) by the American-born artist John Singer Sargent— thus maintaining the autonomy of the individual sections whilst at the same time allowing the viewer to recognise the ongoing impact of migrant artists on portraiture in Britain across 350 years (Fig.2-1). Given the range of artists, styles and different colours within the paintings, it was felt that it would be difficult to find a single wall colour that would work with these competing aesthetics, so it was decided that a neutral colour as a backdrop would be the most appropriate throughout. The choice of wall colour was also used to emphasise the sense of journey and progression through time. This started off with a darker tone of a warm blue-grey in the earlier historic sections, which then became a lighter grey, and eventually white for the more modern and contemporary works. A very dark grey was used for the dark projection spaces of the contemporary video pieces in the centre of the installation. Rather than a single linear route, the more open-plan approach to the build and installation was to encourage visitors to take their own choice of

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direction, to make discoveries and encounter the exhibition in different ways. This was reflected in the interpretation accompanying the exhibition. Tate Britain invited three well-known figures to construct their own journey through the exhibition highlighting particular works along the way, and convey their own personal response to the show: the broadcaster, children’s novelist and poet Michael Rosen; playwright, novelist and Deputy Chair of The British Museum, Bonnie Greer; and Director of the human rights organisation Liberty, Shami Chakrabarti. Each of them chose a particular route through the exhibition which was plotted on the free booklet the visitor received accompanying the show, and after a short overview they talked briefly about individual works along the way—what they meant to them and their thoughts in relation to the subject of migration, whether it be Michael Rosen’s Jewish heritage and experience as a poet, or Shami Chakrabarti talking about the migrant experience and impact of borders.

Fig.2-1 “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” exhibition at Tate Britain, London, 2012. View from the first room of the exhibition with the “Portraiture” section on the right and “New Genres” on the left, looking towards the following two sections with portraits by John Singer Sargent on the end wall. © Tate, London 2015.

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The inclusion of voices other than those of the curatorial team was also an aspect of the catalogue accompanying the exhibition produced by Tate Publishing (Carey-Thomas 2012). Various scholars working in the field of migration studies were invited to contribute short essays to give a greater context to the art being discussed, and interviews with living artists were also included. Some of these contributors had been part of early discussions organised by the Tate Research Department in the process of planning and thinking about the exhibition. The cover of the catalogue itself was quite a difficult issue to resolve. Usually it would feature one of the artworks in the exhibition, a key image that encapsulates the exhibition which would also be used on all of the publicity and marketing in relation to the show. But in a trans-historical thematic exhibition such as “Migrations”, featuring a large number of artists with a variety of styles and covering different periods, it was impossible to select just one image to represent the show. One approach would have been to have multiple images, though the more that are included the smaller they have to be, and this can be difficult to design into a pleasing overall cover. It was felt that a different approach was required. Working with the designers of the catalogue, John Morgan Studio, Tate Publishing commissioned an artist to produce a marbled image. This seemed particularly appropriate—marbling is a technique that was developed in East Asia and brought to Europe by travellers via Persia in the seventeenth century, the technique itself migrating to Britain from abroad (Wolfe 1990, 1–63). A neutral image, it also conveys the sense of history across the centuries and a continuity of use across time. The effect of the image itself suggests movement and fluidity, of strands merging and converging. The image seemed to encapsulate many aspects of the exhibition, and was used not only on the book cover but also at the entrance to the exhibition and the cover of the free booklet. However, for the marketing of the show, artworks from the exhibition were used, historic and contemporary images in a relationship and juxtaposition: James Tissot’s Portsmouth Dockyard (c.1877) and Lubaina Himid’s Between the Two My Heart is Balanced (1991). Himid was inspired by the work of Tissot in creating her painting (Martin 2014), and there is a formal similarity of figures in boats. Produced as large-scale posters for display on the London underground for example, it was felt that this approach would work in a way that would be more difficult on the smaller scale of the book and be more engaging and enticing to prospective visitors. The opening room of the exhibition focussed on Tudor, Jacobean and Stuart portraiture, the genre that dominates British art in this early period, and the works from this date in the Tate collection. However, in

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addressing this beginning to the show the curatorial team was unable to represent a key artist: Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/8–1543). Born in Augsburg, Germany, Holbein is often cited as the first major painter of note active in Britain. During his time in England, from 1526–28 and 1532 until his death in London in 1543, he created images of the leading figures of the Tudor court and most notably that of the king, Henry VIII (Foister 2004). It is Holbein’s iconic full-frontal picture of Henry VIII that continues to inform his image today. Yet the Tate collection, the national collection of British art, does not contain a painting by him. The collection does not claim to be comprehensive but it is interesting, given the history of its construction, the absence of works by this important artist. The Tate was opened in 1897 with the founding bequest of pictures by Sir Henry Tate and administered by the National Gallery. Tate’s collection was of modern and contemporary British art, works of the late nineteenth century, and this was augmented with transfers of appropriate pictures from the National Gallery. It was only in 1919 that it was decided that the Tate should house the national collection of British art, both historic and contemporary, along with modern foreign art (Spalding 1998, 42–44). A large transfer of paintings took place from the National Gallery to the Tate but the definition of historic British art seemed to begin with the nativeborn William Hogarth (1697–1764). Only three other paintings earlier in date to those by Hogarth were transferred: Portrait of a Girl with a Parrot (c.1670) by Sir Peter Lely (1618–80) and two portraits by Cornelius Johnson (1593–1661). Yet from the guides to the Tate Gallery for this period there is no indication that these earlier works were shown, and that British art at the Tate began with William Hogarth (Batchelor 2014). He is often referred to as the “founding father” of British art, and the displays at the Tate during this period reinforced this reputation. This remained the case for the next thirty years until the early 1950s with the National Gallery and Tate Gallery Act (1954) when the Tate gained independence from the National Gallery. It was at this point that the next major transfer of paintings from the National Gallery to the Tate took place, this time containing many earlier British pictures by migrant artists active in Britain (Spalding 1998, 122). Yet the transfers did not include works by Hans Holbein the Younger. The National Gallery held two works by the artist at this time: The Ambassadors (1533) and Christina of Denmark, Duchess of Milan (1538). Detailed discussions of what should be considered for the transfer to the Tate do not survive. Perhaps it was the case that Holbein was not considered a British artist, that his work was best seen in the European Old Master context of the National Gallery or that they were simply too important to leave Trafalgar Square. Either way, it left the curatorial

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Fig.2-2 Studio of Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/8–1543) King Henry VIII, c.1543–47, oil on oak panel, 237.5 x 120.7 cm. Petworth House and Park, West Sussex (The National Trust). © National Trust Images/Derrick E. Witty.

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team considering a loan of a work by Holbein, or possibly one of the existing full-length portraits of Henry VIII after Holbein, to represent him and his influence on portraiture in Tudor Britain in the show (Fig.2-2). In the end it was decided that, due to limited space and desire to keep the loan of paintings to a minimum, this would not be pursued. Another key painter relevant to this early section was Sir Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641). His arrival in London for the second time in 1632 is considered a defining moment in British art history, the impact of the Flemish artist on British portraiture being profound and enduring (Hearn 2009). Arguably the leading portrait painter in Europe of his day, Van Dyck left his native Antwerp for London having been lured to the English capital by Charles I. Given a house and studio on the Thames at Blackfriars, a generous annual pension and a magnificent gold chain, Van Dyck would go on to transform the image of the king and the royal family as well as the aristocratic members of the royal court. Yet despite the centrality of Van Dyck to British art, the Tate collection did not contain a single painting by him for its first eighty years, only acquiring the fulllength portrait of A Lady of the Spencer Family (c.1633–38) in 1977. Unfortunately the condition of this work has suffered over time, the paint layer now very thin through over-cleaning which means it lacks the sumptuousness and vivacity that one would expect to find in Van Dyck’s work. In 2002 and 2003 Tate acquired the half-length pendant pair of portraits depicting Sir William Killigrew (1638) and his wife Mary Hill, Lady Killigrew (1638). Whilst these pictures help fill the gap, the issue of the representation of Van Dyck within the national collection of British art remains. As with Holbein, it may be the case that Van Dyck had not traditionally been seen as a “British artist”, but more of a Flemish artist in an Old Master European context. Works from his British period in the collection of the National Gallery were not transferred to the Tate when the opportunity presented itself. It may also be the case that many of his finest works remain in country house collections, with the National Trust or in private hands, and those that have come on to the market command the highest of prices making acquisition of such works a difficult prospect. In representing Van Dyck in the exhibition and the importance of the patronage of Charles I, it was decided to borrow the portraits of Charles I and Henrietta Maria from Chequers, the country residence of the Prime Minister in Buckinghamshire. These pictures had been included as by Van Dyck in the most recent catalogue raisonné by Sir Oliver Millar (Millar 2004, 474), and shown publicly as fully authenticated works in the exhibition for the first time.

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Fig.2-3 Benedetto Gennari (1633–1715), Elizabeth Panton, Later Lady Arundell of Wardour, as Saint Catherine, 1689, oil paint on canvas, 125 x 102.1 cm. Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015.

One of the aims in the exhibition was to indicate, where feasible, multiple layers of migration within a single image. This was possible with the portrait of Elizabeth Panton, Later Lady Arundell of Wardour, as Saint Catherine (1689) by Benedetto Gennari (1633–1715) (Fig.2-3). Born in Cento and brought up in nearby Bologna, Italy, Gennari was trained as an

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artist by his father and his uncle—the successful painter Guercino (1591– 1666). In 1672 Gennari moved to Paris where this family connection secured favourable commissions, before travelling on to England in 1674 and settling in London. Here he became the favoured painter of the Italian princess Mary of Modena who had recently married James, Duke of York, brother of King Charles II. As well as his fashionable style and famous uncle, his Italian background and Catholic religion may have had some bearing on his success with the royal couple. When the Catholic James II and his court were driven into exile following the Glorious Revolution (1688), Gennari travelled to join them at the chateau of Saint-Germain-enLaye, a royal palace close to Paris offered as a safe haven by Louis XIV. As practising Roman Catholics, Elizabeth Panton and her family had been persecuted in England, and so left for France in 1681, later joining with the exiled court which became a natural focal point for English papists abroad. It was here that Gennari painted her portrait. She is shown in the fashionable guise of St Catherine of Alexandria, the saint who was martyred for staying true to her faith (Hearn 2006). In this one image you have an Italian artist who travelled to England via France before having to return there, and an Englishwoman in exile abroad fleeing religious persecution, the painting itself later migrating back to Britain and eventually entering the national collection. In contrast to the opening group of portraiture, the second section of the exhibition examined the introduction of new genres of art to Britain in the period following the restoration of Charles II in 1660. Genres including marine, animal and still-life painting were introduced by artists primarily from the Netherlands, whilst Baroque decorative painting on ceilings and staircases was produced by French and Italian migrant artists active in Britain. A genre that is often considered quintessentially English—landscape painting—was in fact brought to Britain and developed here by artists from Holland. The word “landscape” is itself derived from the Dutch original: “landschap”. As Edward Norgate states in his Miniatura—or The Art of Limning (1627–28, revised 1649), landscape painting was: An Art soe new in England, and soe lately come a shore, as all the Language within our fower Seas cannot find it a Name, but a borrowed one, and that from a people that are noe great Lenders but upon good Securitie, the Duch (Muller and Murrell 1997, 82).

Landscape painting was represented in the exhibition by the work in the Tate collection A View of a House and its Estate in Belsize, Middlesex (1696) by Jan Siberechts (1627–c.1700), a Flemish-trained artist who

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arrived in Britain around 1674 and produced “birds-eye” views of country houses and estates and other landscapes. With the representation of another genre, marine painting, a loan was again required. The collecting of marine painting has traditionally been the remit of the National Maritime Museum and is not the role of the Tate. Despite this there are a number of marine paintings in the Tate collection, but the earliest is Ships in Distress in a Storm (c.1720–30) by the nativeborn British artist Peter Monamy (1681–1749), and the collection does not contain any works by the migrant marine painters who introduced the genre to Britain in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. The key artists in this respect are Willem van de Velde the Elder (c.1611–93) and his son, Willem van de Velde the Younger (1633–1707), who came to London from Amsterdam in the winter of 1672–73 following a drastic decline in the Dutch economy. Living in Greenwich and using a room at the Queen’s House nearby as a studio they produced works for royalty and the leading nobility (Cordingly 2008). The National Maritime Museum kindly agreed to lend their picture by Willem van de Velde the Younger of The Departure of William of Orange and Princess Mary for Holland, November 1677 (1677) to represent him and this genre in the show. Again thinking of multiple layers of migration within a single image, this work depicts the royal princess leaving England and migrating to the Netherlands having married her Dutch husband. Following the Glorious Revolution, they would subsequently be invited to return to Britain to rule as monarchs. These multiple layers could be found in other pictures in this section. The conversation piece is a genre that was developed from the French “fêtes galantes” and Dutch genre scenes, depicting a small group of people in an informal setting, often family members or groups of friends in gardens or interiors and introduced in Britain by migrant artists such as Philip Mercier (1691–1760), who arrived in London via Paris around 1716. The exhibition used An English Family at Tea (c.1720) by the Flemish artist Joseph van Aken (c.1699–1749) (Fig.2-4) to represent this new genre, the tea service adding an additional strata of meaning—the tea leaves, the china cups, the caddy and the mahogany table all almost certainly imported from East Asia to satisfy demand for this new fashionable beverage (Weatherill 1988, 158). This exoticism, suggesting international trade and the movement of goods as well as people, was reflected in the painting of exotic birds by the Hungarian artist Jacob Bogdani (1658–1724) also included in this section, depicting a brightly coloured Scarlet Macaw and a Blue-and-yellow Macaw, which are both native to South America. Exotic goods and international trade are also

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aspects of still-life painting, another genre that was established in Britain during this period by Dutch artists such as Pieter van Roestraten (1630– 1700) and Edwaert Collier (c.1642–c.1708). As with landscape painting, the English language initially did not have a name for these works and so took a literal translation of the Dutch phrase for them: “Dead Standing Things”. This was used as a title for a BP Spotlight display at Tate Britain focussing on the introduction of still-life painting in Britain from 1660– 1740 (Batchelor 2012). The display coincided with the “Migrations” exhibition meaning that these paintings were unavailable for the show, but it provided an in-depth complementary aspect to the exhibition.

Fig.2-4 Joseph van Aken (c.1699–1749), An English Family at Tea, c.1720, oil paint on canvas, 99.4 x 116.2 cm. Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015.

This notion of internationalism was continued in the third section of Migrations, the chronology moving into the mid eighteenth century. Entitled “Italy, Neoclassicism and the Royal Academy”, this section looked at how Rome became a magnet for artists from all over Europe,

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and even America, and a place where a new international artistic language was formed: Neoclassicism. Italy was also the destination for those taking the Grand Tour as part of their classical and cultural education. Whilst there, these tourists might buy Old Master paintings but would also have the opportunity to purchase contemporary art by artists living there, either to record their journeys or to display their learning. For an artist such as Antonio Canaletto (1697–1768) in Venice this proved highly lucrative, but when the tourists were prevented from travelling by war, the artist had to come to them, and so he migrated to England in 1746 where he stayed for nine years. Canaletto was commissioned to produce landscape scenes by rich patrons, but the painting included in the exhibition, London: The Old Horse Guards from St James’s Park (1749) (Fig.2-5), was produced speculatively, the artist making an announcement in the Daily Advertiser inviting prospective buyers to his lodgings in Soho to view the picture (Beddington 2006, 87–88).

Fig.2-5 Canaletto (Giovanni Antonio Canal) (1697–1768), London: The Old Horse Guards from St James’s Park, c.1749, oil paint on canvas, 117.2 x 236.1 cm. The Andrew Lloyd Webber Foundation, on long loan to Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015.

Friendships and networks were formed in Rome between various artists, such as the Swiss-born Angelica Kauffman (1741–1807), the American Benjamin West (1738–1820) and the Englishman Nathaniel DanceHolland (1735–1811), since the Italian capital acted as a meeting point for artists to share ideas and develop their art. Many of the artists that met in Italy and worked in this new style travelled to London to seek their fortune. Benjamin West came to London in 1763, followed by Kauffman

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and Dance-Holland in 1766. Native Italian artists were also drawn to London, now the largest and richest city in Europe, including Francesco Bartolozzi (1727–1815) and Giovanni Battista Cipriani (1727–85), the latter brought to England by the architect William Chambers. The impact of the migrant artists on the British art establishment and the development of British art was profound, and is exemplified in the founding of the Royal Academy of Arts in 1768. There had long been a desire for a national academy to teach and promote art in Britain, and when this was achieved nearly a third of the founding members were migrant artists active in Britain, including those mentioned immediately above. The Royal Academy membership diploma was designed and engraved by the Italians Cipriani and Bartolozzi, and the highly successful history painter Benjamin West (born in Philadelphia) became the second President of the Royal Academy following the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1792. With just a short period of resignation in 1805, he served a total of twenty-six years as the head of the most important art organisation in Britain, the longest serving President in its history. Many of the themes in these opening three sections of the exhibition— artists fleeing religious persecution, artistic hubs and networks, the development of international artistic languages—were found in the later sections as the show moved into the later nineteenth century and through the twentieth century up to the present day. As well as these connections, the exhibition allowed the curators at Tate Britain to show familiar works in a new way, but also to dig deep into the collection and reveal less wellknown works. Yet they were also to acknowledge the limitations of the collection, which was constructed with works collected in an era when definitions of what can be considered “British” were perhaps more limited than they are today. Despite this, the curators were able to bring to the foreground a common history of British art that is not always so easily recognised: that the migration of artists to Britain, for various reasons, has shaped and influenced British art from its earliest beginnings. As Rachel Campbell-Johnston noted in her review of the exhibition in The Times: “Migrants have forged the social, political and cultural identity of the British. Their influences have shaped—and continue to shape—us. Their work holds up the mirror in which we can discover ourselves” (CampbellJohnston 2012).

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Bibliography Bailey, Martin. 2010. “Director Interview—Avoiding the cliché of combining old and new.” The Art Newspaper, December 16. Batchelor, Tim, ed. 2012. Dead Standing Things—Still Life Painting in Britain 1660–1740. London: Tate. Accessed March 26, 2015. https://www.york.ac.uk/history-of-art/court-country-city/display2012/. Batchelor, Tim. 2014. “Hogarth at the Tate.” Tate. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.tate.org.uk/whats-on/tate-britain/display/bp-spotlightwilliam-hogarth-1697-1764/essay. Beddington, Charles, ed. 2006. Canaletto in England. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Campbell-Johnston, Rachel. 2012. “Review: Migrations: Journeys into British Art at Tate Britain,” The Times, February 1. Carey-Thomas, Lizzie, ed. 2012. Migrations—Journeys into British Art. London: Tate Publishing. Cordingly, David. 2008. “Velde, Willem van de, the younger (1633– 1707).” Oxford Dictionary of National Biography. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/28079. Curtis, Penelope. 2012. “Foreword.” In Migrations—Journeys into British Art, edited by Lizzie Carey-Thomas, 8. London: Tate Publishing. Foister, Susan. 2004. Holbein and England. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Fowle, Frances. 2000. “Ford Madox Brown, ‘The Last of England.’” Tate. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/brownthe-last-of-englandn03064/text-summary. Hearn, Karen. 2006. “Benedetto Gennari, ‘Elizabeth Panton, Later Lady Arundell of Wardour, as Saint Catherine.’” Tate. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/gennari-elizabeth-panton-laterlady-arundell-of-wardour-as-saint-catherine-t06897/text-catalogue-entry. Hearn, Karen, ed. 2009. Van Dyck & Britain. London: Tate Publishing. Higgins, Charlotte. 2010. “Penelope Curtis: beyond the oil painting.” The Guardian, November 30. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2010/nov/30/penelopecurtis-tate-britain-interview.

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Martin, Richard. 2014. “Lubaina Himid. ‘Between the Two my Heart is Balanced.’” Tate. Accessed March 26, 2015. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/himid-between-the-two-my-heartis-balanced-t06947/text-summary. Millar, Oliver. 2004. “Van Dyck in England.” In Van Dyck: A Complete Catalogue of the Paintings, edited by Susan J. Barnes, Nora De Poorter, Oliver Millar, and Horst Vey, 419–642. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Muller, Jeffrey M., and Jim Murrell, eds. 1997. Miniatura, Or, The Art of Limning. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Spalding, Frances. 1998. The Tate—A History. London: Tate Gallery Publishing. Weatherill, Lorna. 1988. Consumer Behaviour and Material Culture in Britain 1660–1760. London: Routledge. Wolfe, Richard. 1990. Marbled paper: its history, techniques and patterns. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

ITALY AND SOUTHERN EUROPE

CHAPTER THREE EL GRECO: THE MIGRANT’S CHALLENGE OF CENTRALITY AS A STATE OF MIND ANETTE SCHAFFER

This paper adduces a consideration of El Greco’s understanding of art under the perspective of decentralized difference. As a migrant, El Greco learned from leading masters and traditions in various European centres of art. When he finally decided to settle in Spain, Rome had reached a new hegemony in the arts. The city was considered the place from where exemplary artistic maxims were disseminated over all Europe. El Greco’s work, however, shows evidence of the artist’s distancing from any dominating doctrines. His insightful comments on art reveal to what extent the problem of centrality and marginality played a significant role in the artist’s own thinking. In this respect, El Greco differed from authors like Daniele Barbaro, Vitruvius, Francisco de Holanda or Giorgio Vasari who were major representatives of a monocentric view of art. Centres arise where a functional relation between humans and territory exists. They, however, designate far more than the place we inhabit. They can also be ideal in nature in the way that central values associate centres with group origins, identity and continuity (Summers 2003, 683). A centre has its location in space as much as it can have it in time. At any rate, such a centrality is vital for the embedding of men in the greater world. Centres serve as points of orientation from where the world is conceived and defined. At the same time, they are also the points from where impulses encroach upon all other areas. In the sixteenth century, it was the material and intellectual achievements of Greco-Roman antiquity that constituted such a nucleus of attraction. The Portuguese humanist and painter Francisco de Holanda stated in 1548 that the antique doctrines of art had been so widespread that they determined the production of art in the entire world. He claimed to recognize its classical features even in the

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indigenous art of the New World: “As far away as the New World of the barbarian people in Brazil and Peru who have been unknown to humans, even those, in their gold cups which I have seen, in their figures, they reflected the same reason and discipline of the ancients.” (Holanda 2003, 56–57).1 Holanda considered the development of art as a coherent unit, which, for its parts, originated in the concept of a Universal History. Accordingly, all peoples however varied they may be, depart from a historic common ground: the perfection of antique art that embodies the maxims of their collective aesthetic understanding. It was Vitruvius who explained to his readers how the Roman people could achieve such an exemplary role and what the magnificence of its skills could be traced back to. In his seminal treatise De Architectura, translated into Italian by its commentator Daniele Barbaro in 1556, one is taught the extent to which the Roman pre-eminence among all cultures is sanctioned by the natural arrangement of the world itself (Barbaro 1556, Book VI, Chapter I). What leads Vitruvius to the insight into such a coherence of cosmic and cultural order is the observation that all cultural goods such as building methods vary in their manner in response to the properties of their locality (“le proprietà dei paesi”). The specific configuration of a place—its geographical location, the climate, the proper aspects of the sky—shapes the physical constitution and character of its people in the same way it also conditions their intellectual and material working. Such differences can be huge regarding the changing characteristics of various lands. Owing to the heat and the resulting pureness of the air, people in the south for instance have an acute intelligence, which allows them to come to conclusions more easily, whereas in the north, where the atmosphere is chilled by moisture, people have dumb minds but excel in combating weapon attacks with great courage (Gordon Smith 2003, 184). The north and the south are the two anti-poles, marked by an extreme predisposition. Only in the geographical centre between the pivots of the southern and the northern extremities of the axis, properties are equally balanced. Here, a particularly moderated interaction between all different qualities enables people to operate in a way that they surpass the works and qualities of all other regions. In this well-balanced centre lies Rome, the city blessed by divine providence. Vitruvius: “Therefore, the divine mind made the city of the Roman people 1

“Hasta el Nuevo Mundo de la gente bárbara del Brasil y Perú, que hasta ahora habían sido innotos a los hombres, aun esos, en muchos vasos de oro, que yo ví, en sus figuras, tenían la mesma razón y disciplina de los antiguos.” Holanda 2003, Chapter XIII: “Como los preceptos de la pintura antigua fueron por todo el mundo”.

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in a peerless and temperate region so that it might rule the whole world.” (Barbaro 1556, Book VI, Chapter I, 166; Gordon Smith 2003, 185).2 El Greco, however, who was in possession of a copy of Barbaro’s edition, commented critically on this passage: “no lo hay”—“there isn’t”, i.e. there is no centre and no such dominion (Marías and Bustamante 1981, 150). This denial of a regulatory model where the achievements of only one city or one people are considered exemplary was formulated as a criticism of Rome’s supposed geo-cultural as well as artistic supremacy. Additionally, the opposition clearly also challenges the well-known paradigm of centre and periphery that, in many parts, is still maintained by even today’s art history (for a critique of such a dualistic explanatory model: Ginzburg and Castelnuovo 1996 and 2009). El Greco denied the concept that high quality can only be created in prosperous centres. But one has to ask, what did such a critical reaction mean around 1600? What did it mean in relation to the production of art? The latter half of the sixteenth century saw the centre of Italian art move from Florence to Rome (for the geography of art in Italy see: Campbell and Milner 2004, 1–13). Not only was Rome supposed to be a new centre for the most famous contemporary masters of art, but with all its antique finds, Rome had also become the guardian of those artworks that stood for perfection in art. The paradigmatic shift as such was supported and promoted by a powerful group of patrons who created ever more extravagant churches, bridges, squares and art collections. Their common aim was to equal and surpass the grandeur of all other Italian cities. For their claim to power, potentates could refer to the glorious ancient past of the city itself. The fortification of a centre and its related normative values was in this case sanctioned by tradition as point of departure. In the sixteenth century, the most important apologist for Rome’s artistic supremacy was without any doubt Giorgio Vasari. Though the art critic did not systematically explain what the city’s artistic qualities consisted of, it may, however, be significant that we are only informed about such qualities in the vitae of those artists who, like Titian, never visited the glorified centre of art. According to Vasari, Titian could have produced real masterpieces had he better practiced the design. But to this end, he should have studied the antique statues and the works of Michelangelo and Raphael in Rome (Vasari, 1568, Vol. III, 807).3 El 2

“E cosi la providentia Divina ha posto la Città del populo Romano in ottima è temperata regione, accioche ella fusse patrona del mondo.” 3 El Greco commented on Vasaris edition of 1568. The annotations were published by Salas and Marías in 1992. “E mi ricordo, che fra’ Bastiano del Piombo,

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Greco who could not but deny such a view commented critically at this point: At every point, he admits that he [Titian] is the greatest imitator of nature due to his “bella manera” of colour, had he taken advantage of what can be seen in Rome, he could just as well have damaged himself. With regards to what he had, the fact is that they all would have benefited much more from imitating him than him imitating them by chance (Salas and Marías 1992, 113).4

It goes without saying that this statement is only one among El Greco’s many other criticisms of Vasari’s strong attention to design. Beyond this, El Greco mainly attacked the partiality and rigidity of such an artistic understanding. It becomes more obvious in a comment on Vasari’s report about Michelangelo’s study trip to Venice: “Jorge [i. e. Giorgio Vasari] would never say that visiting Venice would have been of use for him [Michelangelo]” (Salas and Marías 1992, 106; annotation to: Vasari 1568, 720).5 According to El Greco, Vasari intentionally omitted mentioning the value of the artist’s contact with the art of a city that was not Rome. It is precisely here where El Greco touches a decisive point in Vasari’s conceptual thinking: namely, that an artist, once having reached the highest level of artistic mastery in Rome, becomes immune to whatever influence from abroad. In Vasari’s system, there is no reciprocal relationship between different territories which may work as an incentive for local art production. Vasari favoured the stabilising model of a rigid subordination according to which a centre is able to emit and impose its impulses outwardly, while in the centre itselfno more impulses can be received from abroad. Vasari firmly believed that an artist could not escape practising his skills in Rome. (Ginzburg and Castelnuovo 2009, 42). He even concluded that an artist was destined to fail if he omitted or did not complete his training. Such was the case with Benvenuto Garofalo for having abandoned the so-called “pratica di Roma” far too early. Although Vasari emphasised the artist’s enthusiasm for the Roman ragionando di ciò, mi disse che se Tiziano in quel tempo fusse stato a Roma et avesse veduto le cose di Michelagnolo, quelle di Raffaello e le statue antiche, et avesse studiato il disegno, arebbe fatto cose stupendissime.” 4 “Y una por una le concede ser el mayor imitador de la naturaleza con la bella manera de su colorido si le hubiera aprovechado lo de Roma también se podría haber dañado, lo cierto es que teniendo lo que ha tenido, más les habría sido de provecho a todos ellos haberle imitado a él que por ventura él haberlos imitado a ellos.” 5 “No diría Jorge que le ha valido de algo el ver Venecia.”

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miracles of art, he also explained the extent to which Garofalo was prevented from self-improvement for having returned to his homeland so quickly. And again, El Greco criticised Vasari accusing him of blindness and ignorance: “Father, forgive him, for he does not know what he says” (Salas and Marías 1992, p. 100; annotation to: Vasari 1568, 549).6 In Vasari’s thinking, Rome stood for an ideal that implied much more than a designated place, as Maureen Pelta has accurately pointed out: “To arrive at Vasari’s Rome was not merely to reach a geographical destination but to achieve an aesthetic designation, a plane of artistic accomplishment consonant with the bella maniera of Vasari’s own generation” (Pelta 2005, 164). Rome was identified with the breeding ground of the so-called maniera moderna—a style that became an artistic paradigm with global impact (Ginzburg and Castelnuovo 2009, 35). According to Vasari, not only did the formation of this elaborated third manner have its generative place in a determined space, but it was also just as well localised in time. Its maturity was considered to be the result of an obtained profound knowledge of antique art, and the excavations of antique findings only took place from around 1500 on (Vasari 1981, Vol. IV, 10). El Greco, however, did not ascribe to Vasari’s claim that only artists who recognised the qualities of antique statues could attain perfection in their own works. He deeply refused Vasari’s conclusion that, owing to a lack of knowledge, the painter Giovanni Bellini had to be classified as part of the second generation with an undeveloped style. Instead, he responded with a comment on Vasari’s own lack of artistic ability: “I have seen the painting of Juan Belino [Giovanni Bellini] and in comparison with the author [Vasari], he is the old-fashioned one, and to be honest, that one is far more valuable than everything Vasari has ever painted in sum.” (Salas and Marías 1992, 80; annotation to Vasari 1568, Book II, Proem).7 El Greco implicitly attacked the idea of linearity as an ontological condition of artistic progress. Therefore, it is here where the artist’s decentralising thinking becomes manifest a second time—albeit in a slightly different way: if El Greco’s comments on the lives of Michelangelo and Titian are about the relation that existed (or did not exist) between two separate geographical locations—Venice and Rome— this time, it is the temporal chain of tradition that is under consideration. Among the artists of the third generation, El Greco considered exemplary those who, like Correggio, ignored the authority of antique art 6

“Perdónale Dios por que no sabe lo que dice.” “La pintura de Juan Belino la he visto yo y en comparación con la del autor [Vasari], él es el antiguo, y de verdad vale aquella más que todo cuanto pintó el Vasari.”

7

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and intentionally evaded the compulsion to imitate (Salas and Marías 1992, 81).8 He himself performed as one of those who sought artistic independence by deviating from celebrated traditions. The painting Laocoön, painted only late in his life, can be seen as a programmatic attempt to demonstrate the superiority of modern artistic abilities in contrast to those of antiquity (Marías 1997, 276; Marías 1993, 173–182; Schaffer 2013, 38–49). Although El Greco portrayed Laocoön with the snakes, he ignored the famous antique Laocoön group, which was uncovered in Rome in 1506 and transported immediately to the Vatican (Fig.3-1 & Fig.3-2). The Vatican sculpture depicts Laocoön, standing in a tense state, just before his collapse. El Greco’s image of the Laocoön however, is diametrically opposed to this antique concept of the priest engaged in a heroic battle. In El Greco’s painting, the ferocity of the attack has put Laocoön in a predicament that exemplifies inferiority and hopelessness. Laocoön lies fallen on his back, in a position that makes him appear as the victim of the fight even before the snakes have bitten him. Moreover, El Greco also ignored the affects of the figures as they were perceived and praised first and foremost by the Counter-Reformation’s art critics (among others: Lomazzo 1584, Book II, Chapter XVI, 166; Gilio 1961, 42). In El Greco’s Laocoön the upward rolling eyes are not an exaggerated expression of pain (“in atto di dolersi”. Lomazzo 1584, 166) as they are in the statue, but they are rather directed toward the battle with the snakes, which are attacking their victim from above. The state of agony (“in atto di morire”), which characterises the figure of the son on the left in the Laocoön group, is not to be found in the figure of the dead son painted by El Greco. Also missing are the emotional relationships among the figures. In El Greco’s painting, the son that is still standing does not seem to be aware of the fate of the others, while the son in the sculpture reacts with concern and compassion for the death of his father (“in atto di aver compassione”. Lomazzo 1584, 166). El Greco’s artistic comments reveal that the artist’s main concern did not consist in criticising antique art. Rather, he argued against his contemporaries’ proceeding to gain insight into the past and precisely against the way they venerated antique texts: .

8

“Téngase por cierto que en aquel tiempo en que esta obra se hizo, se le debió más que a todos los demás, porque ningún otro mostró en aquel tiempo tanta ferocidad sin depender de la Antigüedad como se ve en la mayoría de las cosas de Rafael de Urbino.”

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El Greco’s conclusion is somehow that, if there were such reports on antique economics, one could easily see that all was then different than in his time. According to him, even the most respected writings may only give a distorted picture of the past. Instead, it is the past’s material products that are able to provide evidence of this reality. He therefore argued for a more analytical approach via these objects instead of reading previously authoritative books. If one were to do so in the case of the antique temples, one would immediately recognise antiquity’s inferiority. This attitude distinguishes El Greco as representative of modern ideas. But above all, it differentiates his thinking from Vasari’s historical consciousness, which still has its basis in the ancient epistemological model. In the proem to the third book, Vasari invokes the authority of Pliny in order to qualify his own judgement of antique art: Success came to the artists who followed, after they had seen some of the finest works of art mentioned by Pliny dug out of the earth: namely, the Laocoön, the Hercules, the great torso of Belvedere, as well as the Venus, the Cleopatra, the Apollo, and countless others (Vasari 1981, 10).10 9

“Si las antigüedades faltaban y que si las antigüedades, como es verdad, no han hecho más que servir a Vitruvio, digo que a mi parecer no es otro que haber ennoblecido a la opinión común que entiende que lo pasado por libros y comentarios es más adecuado para ennoblecer a los que la profesan [...] o como también otros dejaron escrita la economía de la que, por ejemplo, se podría decir, que lo que más se saca de ella es notar alguna cosa, como en aquel tiempo existía un precio y ahora está todo al revés de lo que fuera entonces; si no encontráramos descritas aquellas costumbres, entenderíamos que los antiguos no eran más superiores como sería si Vitruvio no hubiera dejado escrito como milagros aquellos simples templos.” 10 “Bene lo trovaron poi dopo loro gli altri, nel veder cavar fuora di terra certa anticaglie, citate da Plinio delle più famose: il Lacoonte, l’Ercole et il Torso grosso di Bel Vedere, così la Venere, la Cleopatra, lo Apollo et infine altre.”

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Fig.3-1 El Greco, Laocoön, 1610–14, oil on canvas, 137.5 x 172.5 cm. © National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

Through the writings of Pliny we are informed that already in antiquity, there must have existed a group of sculptures depicting Laocoön’s tragic fate. This group was considered the most renowned masterpiece of that time, for it exceeded the quality of all the others: “opus omnibus et picturae et statuariae artis praeferendum” (Plinius 1978, Book XXXVI, 37). In early modern Rome, it was mainly through eyewitness reports of this type that the state of knowledge about antiquity was shaped, and this is what made the situation so special there: the opinion about the perfection of antique art had been formed on the basis of such texts long before a direct contact with the artefacts themselves could have become real. The spectacular finds of later excavations were then only to confirm the already existing appreciations. It was this glorification, transmitted by the voices of the ancient world itself, that fostered the cult around antiquity and that, for decades, also impeded a rather critical approach in the study of its works of art (For questions of identification: Koortbojian 2000, 199–216).

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Fig.3-2 Athanodoros, Hagesandros, Polydoros, The Laocoön Group, (restored by Fra Giovanni Angelo da Montorsoli in 1532), 40–20 AD, 208 x 163 x 112 cm. © Musei Vaticani, Rome.

It is here where El Greco proposes another, more modern and opponent proceeding for the generation of artistic knowledge—a proceeding which avoids pre-existent formulations, but departs from experience only. Studying the objects instead of referring to the doctrines of ancient authorities outlines a method of procedure that relies mainly on one

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potential: the judgement of the modern individual and its ability to perceive and discern reality (Krohn 1977, 13–128). But it was not only in art that El Greco made a claim for such an orientation towards its material production. In any discipline whatsoever, quality differences are to be deciphered from their actual products. Weapons can serve as reliable indicator when it comes to assessing a culture’s real state of maturity: But it is natural that only by the time the qualities of skills and art are discovered, and even more in the material things as can be seen in the case of machines: slingshots, scorpions, crossbows, and the artillery of our times, in everything, as is the case in the artillery, it is a matter of force: only through them, truth can be demonstrated (Marías and Bustamante 1981, 171; annotation to: Barbaro 1556, Book VII, Chapter VI, 190).11

If objects are instructive in the matter of gaining insight, one can easily recognise how backward antique achievements were, and why they could never serve as subjects of imitation for modern times. It is obvious that such a knowledge model—founded in sensory perception and subjective judgement—lacks any normative centre that would impose absolute values upon the entire system. On the contrary, what is of importance here is the notion of the new—the new which always principally requires being sought and experienced. If there is a cultural difference between El Greco’s adopted country and the various countries he left behind—Crete, his homeland and Italy, his second training centre—it is the loose relationship that Spanish people maintained with Greco-Roman antiquity. As Antonio Maravall (1986) had already demonstrated long ago, Spanish humanists were far less committed to the Latin cultural heritage than their Italian peers. It was in the Iberian Peninsula where intellectuals first developed a sense that the moderns had superseded the ancients, and this many years before Francis Bacon expressed the idea (Bacon 1620). Early modern Hispanic writings on science—cosmography, cartography, navigation, medicine—are studded with remarks on the ignorance of the ancients, and many of them were written with the purpose of correcting their doctrines. Thus, the country that became the final destination of El Greco’s migrating journey was a country that, thanks to gigantic territorial expansion and stunning technical progress, had widened the gaze to a hitherto unknown world. El 11

“Pero como naturalmente el tiempo descubre cosas en cualquier facultad y arte y más en las cosas materiales como se ve (la diferencia) por las máquinas: catapultas, escorpiones, ballestas, artillería de nuestros tiempos, si en todo, como en dicha artillería, ocurre en la fuerza: por ello se demostraría la verdad.”

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Greco ended up in a world-leading kingdom that could facilitate access to a sphere of knowledge the ancients could only have dreamed of acquiring. One can only speculate about where El Greco’s openness towards cultural diversity had come from. But one thing is certain, that he felt a deep aversion towards people like Vitruvius who, due to an exaggerated inclination to their native places, overestimated the culture of their origin: “For it is that I don’t feel so strong an inclination towards my people as, in the previous chapter, is shown by Vitruvius towards his country” (Marías and Bustamante 1981, 156–157; annotation to: Barbaro 1556, Book VI, Chapter VII, 170).12 Patriotism grows where identity is formed by people’s attachment to a particular territory. It is through migration that such ties become destabilised. Although his Greek compatriots were descendants of a very prestigious past, El Greco would never have identified so strongly with them. Contrary to Vitruvius, El Greco denied that the production of high art is determined by prevailing conditions. Artists can excel in their skills regardless of where or what they belong to, for they are nothing more than natural human beings: At this point, it may seem as if I had given priority to our century over the ancients in order to defend it, which is no more than saying the truth; for, to my mind, these are only names and all of them are humans and everything is the same thing (Marías and Bustamante 1981, 156; annotation to: Barbaro 1556, Book VI, Chapter VII, 170).13

This does not mean that the course of El Greco’s artistic career has to be looked at as an evolving process with no anchors. At least, in the way he signed his works—namely with his Greek name for the whole lifetime (for a very insightful study on El Greco’s Greek identity: Casper 2014)— he upheld some level of continuity with the place of departure. But if a migrant is going to be characterised by his closer involvement with the whole of the world, this was certainly the case with El Greco.

12 “Puesto que no tengo tanta inclinación por los míos como la que [muestra] Vitruvio en el capítulo anterior por su patria.” 13 “En este lugar, podría parecer que yo, por defender nuestro siglo; lo haya antepuesto a los antiguos, lo cual no es sino decir la verdad; porque para mí sólo son nombres y todos son hombres y todo es la misma cosa.”

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Bibliography Bacon, Francis. 1620. Instauratio magna (novum organum). London: John Bill. Barbaro, Daniele. 1556. I dieci libri dell' architettura di M. Vitruvio. Venice: Francesco Marcolini. Campbell, Stephen J. and Stephen J. Milner. 2004. “Art, Identity, and Cultural Translation in Renaissance Italy.” In Artistic Exchange and Cultural Translation in the Italian Renaissance City, edited by Stephen J. Campbell and Stephen J. Milner, 1–13. Cambridge: University Press. Casper, Andrew R. 2014. “Greeks abroad: (as)signing artistic identity in early modern Europe.” Renaissance Studies 26: 356–376. Gilio, Giovanni Andrea. 1961 [Camerino 1564]. “Dialogo nel quale si ragiona degli errori e degli abusi de’ pittori circa l’istorie.” In Trattati d’arte del cinquecento: fra manierismo e controriforma, edited by Paola Barocchi, Vol. II, 3–115. Bari: G. Laterza. Ginzburg, Carlo and Enrico Castelnuovo. 1996. “Centre and Periphery.” In History of Italian Art, vol. I, edited by Peter Burke, Ellen Bianchini, and Claire Dorey, 29–113. Cambridge: Polity Press. Ginzburg, Carlo and Enrico Castelnuovo. 2009. “Symbolic Domination and Artistic Geography in Italian Art History.” Art in Translation, vol. 1: 5–48. Gordon Smith, Thomas. 2003. Vitruvius on Architecture. New York: Monacelli. Holanda, Francisco de. 2003. De la pintura antigua, seguido de “El diálogo de la Pintura”. Translated by Manuel Denis [1563], edited by F. J. Sánchez Cantón, Madrid: Visor Libros. Koortbojian, Michael. 2000. “Pliny`s Laocoön?” In Antiquity and its Interpreters, edited by Alina Payne, Anne Kuttner, and Rebekah Smick, 199–216. Cambridge: University Press. Krohn, Wolfgang. 1977. “Die neue Wissenschaft’ der Renaissance.” In Experimentelle Philosophie. Ursprünge autonomer Wissenschaftsentwicklung, edited by Gernot Böhme et al, 13–128. Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Lomazzo, Giovanni Paolo. 1584. Trattato dell’arte de la pittura. Milano: Paolo Gottardo Pontio. Maravall, José Antonio. 1986. Antiguos y Modernos. Visión de la historia e idea de progreso hasta el Renacimiento. Madrid: Alianza. Marías, Fernando. 1993. “El Greco y los usos de la Antigüedad clásica.” In La visión del mundo clásico en el arte español. VI Jornadas de Arte del Dept. “Diego Velázquez” del CSIC, 173–182. Madrid.

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—. 1997. Greco. Biographie d’un peintre extravagant. Paris: A. Biro. Marías, Fernando and Agustín Bustamante. 1981. Las ideas artísticas de El Greco. Madrid: Ediciones Cátedra. Pelta, Maureen. 2005. “’If he, with his genius, had lived in Rome’. Vasari and the Transformative Myth of Rome.” In Reading Vasari, edited by Anne B. Barriault et al, 155–167. London: Philip Wilson Publishers. Plinius Secundus, Gaius. 1978. Naturalis historia, edited by Roderich König. München: Artemis. Salas, Xavier and Fernando Marías. 1992. El Greco y el arte de su tiempo. Las anotaciones de El Greco a Vasari. Madrid: Real Fundación de Toledo. Schaffer, Anette. 2013. El Greco. Die Erfindung des Laokoon. Basel: Schwabe. Summers, David. 2003. Real Spaces: World Art History and the Rise of Western Modernism. New York: Phaidon Press. Vasari, Giorgio. 1568. Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori ed architettori. Florence: Giunti. —. 1981. Le vite de’ più eccellenti pittori scultori ed architettori, edited by Gaetano Milanesi. Florence: G.C. Sansoni.

CHAPTER FOUR FROM STONE TO WOOD: CLAUDE LAPRADE (C.1675–1738) AND HIS JOURNEY FROM PROVENCE TO PORTUGAL SÍLVIA FERREIRA

The Early Years—Works in Stone This text will focus on one of the most outstanding migrant artists in Portugal in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries: the French sculptor Claude Laprade. By combining traits of his Provençal and Portuguese heritage and expressing these through a new visual language, Laprade shaped the development of the sculptural arts in Portugal to a very high degree. The influence his work had on local artists can still be seen in many Portuguese churches and museums. The first scholar to carry out in-depth research on Laprade was Ayres de Carvalho, providing important information on Laprade’s works and personal life (Carvalho 1954; Carvalho 1964). More recent studies have looked at the sculptor in a more fragmentary manner, focusing mainly on his sculptural work in stone, in particular one specific work: the tomb of Bishop of Miranda do Douro (Xavier 1991; Lopes 2001). An in-depth examination of his art that reflects newfound data is therefore essential. Laprade played an important role in the development of Portuguese Baroque art because he introduced innovative sculptural models after a period when the country was focused on gaining its sovereignty from Spain. Efforts to revive artistic communities were weak (Dores 2004). Claude Laprade was born in Avignon, Provence around 1675, where he learned his art and trade as a sculptor. The circumstances of his departure from Provence and the exact year of his arrival in Portugal are not known. But newly found documents make it now possible to shed light on his life in Portugal (National Torre do Tombo Archive. Registo Geral de Testamentos. Book 215: 108–109. January 1738).

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In 1703 he asked permission to marry Joana Joubert. The document states that he was 28 years old and had lived in Lisbon for the previous 15 years (National Archive of Torre do Tombo. Câmara Eclesiástica de Lisboa. Sumários Matrimoniais, Mç. 1. December 1703). However, the data he provided seems rather problematic. For example, his claim to have been baptised in the church of Saint Agricol in Avignon in 1675 is not supported by any archival data in the church records; the parochial archives contain no baptismal record for the sculptor at that or any nearby church in Provence for any of the possible dates of his baptism. The theory proposed by some scholars that a boy named Claude Joseph Courrat, who was baptised in 1682 in the parish church of L´isles Sur la Sorgue, 30 km from Avignon, is Laprade himself, does not appear to be correct (Carvalho 1964, 25; Lopes 2001, 119). Otherwise he would have been only 17 years old when he carved one of his key works in Portugal, the tomb of Bishop Manuel de Moura Manuel, too young to carry out a monument of that quality. Furthermore, the names of Courrat’s parents in the L’isles Sur la Sorgue baptismal register are different from those Laprade gave to the authorities in Portugal in the document from 1703 asking for permission to marry. In this request, Laprade states that he was 28 years old and had already lived in Lisbon for 15 years, thus placing himself in Portugal since the age of 13. Two questions must be raised: where did he learn his profession? And who were his masters? The data provided to the ecclesiastical chamber was certainly inaccurate. What is certain is that his first documented work in stone, the tomb of the Bishop Manuel de Moura Manuel, was undoubtedly carved by him, as were the works in the University of Coimbra, and all are clearly influenced by Provençal sculpture (Barbosa 1727, 402; Correia 1946, 146–151). It must therefore be concluded that he was older than 28 in 1703 and that, for some unknown reason, Laprade lied either about his age or the exact date that he came to Portugal. As stated above, Laprade’s first documented work in Portugal was the tomb of D. Manuel de Moura Manuel, Inquisitor of the city of Coimbra and Bishop of Miranda do Douro (Fig.4-1). The tomb, commissioned by the bishop himself, is situated in the chapel of Our Lady of Penha in the village of Ílhavo, near Aveiro, in the north of Portugal. The chapel contains not only the tomb, but also several altarpieces of carved and gilded wood. Tile panels by the artist Gabriel del Barco (Meco 1979; Carvalho 2011) cover the walls and a painted Jesse tree with the ascendants of the Virgin Mary decorates the ceiling.

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Fig.4-1 Claudde Laprade, Toomb of D. Man nuel de Moura Manuel, Churrch of Our Lady of Penhha, Vista Alegree-Ílhavo, Portug gal. © Museu V Vista Alegre, Viista Alegre Atlantis.

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The tomb displays an interactive group of sculptural figures that communicate with the deceased, similar to examples in Italy and France, such as the well-known tomb of Pope Alexander VII by Gianlorenzo Bernini in Saint Peter’s (Bacchi/Tumidei 1998), the monument of Louis Phélypeaux de la Vrillière in the Church of Saint-Martial in Châteauxneufsur-Loire, by Domenico Guidi (Giometti 2010) and that of Gaspard du Laurent in the Church of Saint-Trophime in Arles (Barjavel 1841; Requin 1885). The key artists working in Provence at the time of Claude Laprade were Jean Péru, Jacques Bernus and Pierre Puget. Strong similarities can be observed between Laprade's work and sculptures in churches and museums in Avignon, Marseille, Toulon, Aix-en-Provence, and even in small villages of Provence, such as Isle-sur-la-Sorgue. For instance, the Virgin and child on the façade of Saint Pierre in Avignon, attributed to Jean Péru (Marcel 1928; Fig.4-2) and Mary Magdalene in the church of Our Lady of the Angels in Isle-sur-la-Sorge (Guigue 1944) are very similar to the female figures depicting Fortune and Justice which Laprade sculpted for the University of Coimbra in 1700 (Fig.4-3).

Fig.4-2 Jean Péru (attributed), Virgin with child Jesus, Façade of the Church of Saint Pierre, Avignon, France. © Sílvia Ferreira.

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Fig.4-3 Claude Laprade, Statues of “Fortune” and “Justice”, Coimbra University, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira.

The tomb of D. Manuel, which is unique in Portugal, recalls that sculpted by Provencal artist Jean Péru in 1688 for Abbot Simiane La Coste, which was originally located in the church of Saint-Martial in Avignon. However, owing to its destruction during the French Revolution, it is only evidenced through archival material (Carvalho 1964, 27–28).1 Another similar tomb, especially when looking at Laprade’s figuration of Time, is that of Laurent Buti, bishop of Carpentras, in the cathedral of Carpentras in Provence, by Jacques Bernus who frequently worked in stone and wood (Barjavel 1841; Requin 1885). While still working on the tomb of D. Manuel or shortly after its completion in 1699, Laprade was asked to sculpt works in stone for the University of Coimbra (Correia 1946, 146–151). This was a major commission that included a portico with the effigy of the Portuguese King Peter II (now substituted by the effigy of King Joseph I), and atlantes, 1

City Library of Avignon: Livrée Ceccano—Description of the tomb of Abade Simiane de La Coste by Esprit Calvet. Eighteenth century documents. Manuscript N.º 2348, p. 379.

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allegorical statues of Medicine, Theology and Geography (Fig.4-4 & Fig.4-5). He also sculpted a statue of the Roman Emperor Justinian and various reliefs for the above-door decoration of different classrooms. This moment in Laprade’s career in Portugal was important, and certainly decisive for his future as an artist in the country. After his work in stone for the University of Coimbra, which would have occupied him for approximately three years until 1700, no other documented nor attributed works in that material are known.

Fig.4-4 Claude Laprade, Statue of “Medicine”, Museum Grão Vasco, Coimbra, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira.

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Fig.4-5 Claude Laprade, Statue of “Theology”. Museum Grão Vasco, Coimbra, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira.

The Later Years—Works in Wood The details of Laprade’s transition from sculpting in stone to sculpting in wood are not known. It can only be assumed that this change was to suit his Portuguese patrons. As there were no more known requests to sculpt in stone, it is possible that through the fame he had acquired from the bishop’s tomb and the sculptures for the University of Coimbra, he started to get commissions to work in wood. Given that he had already established his fame in statuary, it seems convincing that his first commissioned works in wood were images of saints.

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The first major documented commission dates from 1710. The friars of Saint Augustine of the monastery of Our Lady of Grace in Lisbon asked him to sculpt ninety-two portrait busts of saints and seven arm reliquaries to put in the sacristy of their church (Historical Archive of the Patriarcado de Lisboa. Convento dos Agostinhos da Graça. “Livro do Recibo e Gasto do Santuario da Sancristia de Nossa Senhora da Graça” 1710, 31–32; Fig.4-6). This commission was paid for by the Bishop of Hiponia, the brother of Mendo de Fóios Pereira and former Secretary of State to King Peter II, who sought to embellish and enrich the vestry containing the tomb of his brother (Vale 2004, 207). Today, only eleven reliquary busts and two arms remain. The major earthquake of the 1 November 1755 in Lisbon destroyed a large part of the church and the monastery. Furthermore, religious orders were dissolved in Portugal in 1834 and the general anticlerical feeling and movement at the beginning of the twentieth century contributed to the damage and loss of Portuguese religious heritage. Eight of the existing reliquary busts are on display at the original site. Three more busts are kept in the collections of the patriarchate of Lisbon, where they are accessible for viewing by the general public. They are made of wood, and their documentation states that they are silver-plated (Historical Archive of the Patriarcado de Lisboa. Convento dos Agostinhos da Graça. “Livro do Recibo e Gasto do Santuario da Sancristia de Nossa Senhora da Graça” 1710: 31–32). Only one of them shows signs of this technique, and the other two (the bust of Christ and an unidentified saint) have been restored in recent years. They show formal similarities to other works of the artist such as the sculptures of Saint Peter and Saint John the Baptist in the cathedral of Viseu, especially in the way facial features are sculpted. Five years later, and from 1714 to 1715, Claude Laprade worked on the main altar of the Church of Our Lady of Pena in Lisbon (Carvalho 1964, 41–45; Guimarães 1968, 31–48), earning a salary much higher than the other sculptor Domingos da Costa Silva and his fellow woodcarvers, namely Miguel Francisco da Silva. Although the available documentation does not explicitly state this, historians of Baroque art in Portugal agree that Laprade sculpted the large atlantes, simulating the carrying of the altarpiece (Carvalho 1964, 41–45; Fig.4-7). Again, there are notable similarities to Provencal art works by Pierre Puget, such as the main door of the Hôtel de Ville in Toulon, the doors of the Hôtel de Espagne and the Pavillon Vendôme, both in Aix-en-Provence (Bourguet-Vic 2008, 219– 234).

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Fig.4-6 Claude Laprade, Reliquary bust, Collections of the Patriarchate of Lisbon, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira.

In 1717 the brotherhood of our Lady of Mercy from the village of Chamusca, north of Lisbon, asked Laprade to sculpt several sculptures in wood for their church. Historical church records state that he sculpted

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three effigies (or figures)—the dead Christ, our Lady of Solitude, and Christ Carrying the Cross (Archive of Santa Casa da Misericórdia da Chamusca. Memória Histórica da Igreja da Misericórdia da Chamusca). Although the original manuscript is lost, examination of the statues upholds this attribution. The statue of the dead Christ is the most impressive of the three. It depicts a thin and lifeless body, bleeding from his wounds, his facial expression signalling a painful and agonising death. His mouth and eyes are slightly open, reinforcing the impression of an unexpected death. The statues of Our Lady of Solitude and Christ Carrying the Cross, in spite of frequent repainting, still show the characteristic traits of the sculptor. These characteristics, such as the shape of the face and eyes, are shared by another of his works—Saint Peter in the Viseu Cathedral (Alves 1976, 48–54), dating from 1723. In 1718, Laprade was mentioned in a document from the City Hall of Lisbon, regarding a request he had submitted to carry out architectural works at his house in Remolares Street, parish of Saint Paul, as documented in the Cordeamentos of the historical archive of this institution (Municipal Archive of Lisbon, Livro de cordeamentos de 1710–1719). This is interesting data, since it helps locating the artist’s studio in Lisbon. Extant documentation states that he lived most of his life in the parish of Saint Paul, which suffered major destruction in the 1755 earthquake (Portugal/Matos 1974). As this parish’s records disappeared in the earthquake, there is today no further information concerning the personal and professional life of the artist. In 1719, Laprade and some of his fellow woodcarvers and sculptors carried out several arches, statues and ornamental pieces for the major procession that occurred in Portugal during that period, namely the Corpus Christi Procession (Carvalho 1964, 45–46; Oliveira 1901, 522). This event involved the whole city of Lisbon and the art works were commissioned by the City Hall. Arches with sculptures were built to provide emblematic displays in various locations in the city, such as the Paço da Ribeira and Rossio Square. Streets were embellished with garlands of flowers, textiles, medallions, etc. (Machado 1759). The ephemeral arches were designed by the royal architect João Frederico Ludovice (Pereira 2003), the architect of the palace and monastery of Mafra, near Lisbon.

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Fig.4-7 Claude Laprade, Atlantes of the main altar from the church of Our Lady of Pena, Lisbon, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira.

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Around 1720 Laprade executed the wooden statues of Saint John the Evangelist and Mary Magdalene for the chapel of Our Lord Carrying the Cross, situated near the main altar of Saint Dominic in Lisbon. The altar and sculptures no longer exist, since the church and monastery of the Dominican friars in Lisbon were also destroyed during the 1755 earthquake. The only known reference to these sculptures is in a chronicle of the Dominican order dating from 1747, eight years before the earthquake. The text describes the statues and shows great admiration for the work of the sculptor, whom the author refers to as a notable artist (Natividade 1747, 42–43). In 1721, one year later, Claude Laprade and his fellow sculptors and woodcarvers protested in the City Hall because the works they had carried out for the Corpus Christi procession in 1719 had not yet been paid for, which was due to an evaluation undertaken by the architect Ludovice, who did not want to pay the full price that the artists were demanding. He stated that a large part of the statues and ornamental objects had been recovered from previous processions and that the fees the artists were demanding were not appropriate. (Oliveira 1901, 522; Carvalho 1964, 46). In the following year, the priests of the cathedral of Viseu, a city in the north of Portugal, commissioned two statues from Claude Laprade—one of Saint Peter and the other of Saint John the Baptist. These statues were to be placed in the centre of the side altars of the church, with Saint Peter on the left altar, and Saint John on the right (Alves 1976, 48–54). Today, the statue of Saint Peter is still located in that same altar, but in the nineteenth century it was moved to a pedestal at the side, due to modifications, which introduced a tabernacle and a large cross in the middle of the altar. The image of Saint John represents him as a young man, his slender body partially covered with a sheepskin (Fig.4-8). The skill of the artist is well displayed in the correct anatomical design of the figure and in its expressiveness, namely in the position of the body and handling of his garment, with a full sense of movement so characteristic of Baroque sculpture. The next documented work of Claude Laprade was the design for the main altar of the cathedral of Oporto in 1726 as part of the renovation of the church (Brandão 1985, 27–35; Ferreira 2008, 114–17). Two different plans were requested from two artists, Claude Laprade and the architect and woodcarver Santos Pacheco de Lima, who sculpted the main altarpiece in the church of Saint Catherine, the former monastic church of the Holy Sacrament in Lisbon (Ferreira 2008, 53–62). The two drawings were sent to Oporto for consideration and although it is not known which drawing was chosen, it can be assumed from the letters of the Lisbon

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priests’ agent and the appearance of the altar itself, that both designs were used. This very complex architectural structure was clearly influenced by Andrea Pozzo’s, Perspectiva Pictorum et Architectorum, particularly figure number 44 of that treatise (Pozzo 1737, 41).

Fig.4-8 Claude Laprade, Statue of Saint John the Baptist, Cathedral of Viseu, Portugal. © Alcina Silva.

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By that time Laprade was already a well-known sculptor in Portugal, so it is not surprising that the priests of the cathedral of Oporto commissioned him to produce four representations of saints for the main altar: Saint Benedict, Saint Bernard, Saint Basil and Saint John Nepomucene (Brandão 1985, 118–121). These statues do not possess the same sculptural vitality as those in the cathedral of Viseu, and are somewhat average works. We can assume that the artist’s involvement in their execution was minor, and that most of the work was carried out by his apprentices. The care for detail in these figures is not the same as in those he had previously sculptured. The last document concerning his work and involvement in major commissions placed him working in the royal palace and convent of Mafra in 1730 (Brandão 1985, 120). Frederico Ludovice, the royal architect of King John V, designed this convent and palace. Many of the works of art in this monument came from Italy, or were made to imitate the Roman style. It was also used for the training of architects and sculptors. Laprade, however, stated that during the last years of his career he received very little work (Brandão 1985, 120). He died eight years later, in 1738, and in his will it is stated that he had been sick, blind and paralysed for several years (National Torre do Tombo Archive. Registo Geral de Testamentos. Book 215: 108–109. January 1738).

The Legacy Claude Laprade remains a controversial figure—many details of his personal and professional life still need to be researched. He was most proficient as a stone carver but rapidly adapted to the Portuguese tradition of sculpting in wood, often used to execute altarpieces and other elements of church interiors. Laprade benefitted from the high demand of ecclesiastical art for the countless churches and monasteries in Lisbon, as well as in other cities, possibly including churches in the Portuguese overseas territories in Brazil and Africa (Dias 2008). The artist showed a notable capacity for adapting to the requests of his Portuguese patrons and was open to meeting the needs of a society that had different traditions and expectations regarding materials and the aesthetic role of art. The Portuguese way of conceiving and executing sacred images and church altars provided him with the opportunity of creating new models. As a migrant artist, Laprade’s most remarkable skill was to visually express a combination of his two cultural heritages, the Provencal and the Portuguese. This new visual language, exemplified in the atlantes and the

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figures of Saints, influenced the oeuvre of many contemporary Portuguese artists and is represented in churches and cultural institutions all over the country, for example in the works by the woodcarvers Santos Pacheco de Lima and Miguel Francisco da Silva who both worked in Lisbon at the same time as Laprade. Santos Pacheco executed the main altar of the monastic Church of the Holy Sacrament in Lisbon (Carvalho 1964, 32; Ferreira 2008, 107–119) and designed the main altar of the Cathedral of Oporto (Brandão 1985, 27–35) and of the Cathedral of Viseu (Alves 1995, 41). Da Silva completed the main altar of the convent of Saint Claire in Oporto and of the Church of Saint Francis in Guimarães in the north of Portugal (Ferreira-Alves 2001, 89–103).

Bibliography Alves, Alexandre. 1976. “Esculturas de Laprade na Diocese de Viseu.” Beira Alta 35: 48–54. Alves, Alexandre. 1995. A Sé Catedral de Santa Maria de Viseu. Viseu: Câmara Municipal de Viseu, Santa Casa da Misericórdia de Viseu e Grupo de Amigos do Museu Grão Vasco. Auquier, Philippe. 1904. Pierre Puget. Paris: H. Laurens. Bacchi, Andrea and Stefano Tumidei. 1998. Bernini. La scultura in San Pietro. Milano: Federico Motta Editore. Barbosa, D. José. 1727. Memórias do Collegio Real de S. Paulo da Universidade de Coimbra e dos seus collegiaes e porcionistas. Lisboa: Officina de António Joséda Sylva. Barjavel, Casimir-François. 1841. Dictionnaire historique, biographique et bibliographique du département de Vaucluse. Tomme I. Carpentras: Imprimerie de L. Devillario: 184–190. Baumann, Émile. 1949. Pierre Puget, sculpteur. Paris: Les Editions de l’Ecole. Bourguet-Vic, Monique. 2008. “Les atlantes de Puget.” In Toulon et son patrimoine: portes et façades, corderie et front de mer, edited by JeanPaul Meyrucis and Andre Beruit. Gémenos: Autres Temps-Académie du Var. Brandão, Domingos de Pinho. 1985. Obra de Talha Dourada, Ensamblagem e Pintura na Cidade e na Diocese do Porto, Tomo II. Porto: Diocese do Porto. Breton, Alain. 1984-1985. "À Saint-Martial: deux oeuvres Baroques méconnues: le tombeau de l'abbé de Lacoste—les bâtiments modernes de Saint-Martial." Annuaire de la Société des Amis du Palais des Papes 71-72: 67-85.

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Carvalho, Ayres de. 1954. “Desvenda-se o Caso do Misterioso Artista Claude Laprade.” Diário de Lisboa, 7 April. Carvalho, Ayres de. 1964. “Novas Revelações para a História do Barroco em Portugal. II—O Mestre das Grandiosas Máquinas Douradas.” Belas-Artes 20: 29–65. Carvalho, Maria do Rosário Salema de. 2011. “Gabriel del Barco: la influencia de un pintor español en la azulejería portuguesa (1669– 1701).” Archivo Español de Arte 84 (335): 227–244. Correia, Virgílio. 1946. Obras. vol. I. Coimbra: Universidade de Coimbra. Dias, Pedro. 2008. Arte de Portugal no Mundo. África Ocidental. vol. 4. Lisboa: Público. —. 2008. Arte de Portugal no Mundo. Brasil. Artes Decorativas e Iconográficas. vol. 7. Lisboa: Público. —. 2008. Arte de Portugal no Mundo. África Oriental e Golfo Pérsico. Lisboa: Público. Dores, Fernando. 2004. A Guerra da Restauração 1641–1668. Lisboa: Livros Horizonte. Ferreira, Sílvia. 2008. A Igreja de Santa Catarina. A talha da capela-mor. Lisboa: Livros Horizonte. —. 2009. “A Talha Barroca de Lisboa (1670–1720). Os artistas e as obras.” PhD diss., Universidade de Lisboa. Ferreira-Alves, Natália. 2001. A Escola de Talha Portuense e a sua Influência no Norte de Portugal. Porto: Edições Inapa. Giometti, Cristiano. 2010. Domenico Guidi 1625–1701: Uno scultore barocco di fama europea. Roma: L'Erma di Bretschneider. Guigue, Julien. 1944. L’église de l´Isle-sur-Sorgue. Avignon: Imprimerie Ruillière Frères. Guimarães, Carlos Alberto. 1968. Tribuna da Capela-Mor da Igreja da Pena—Documentos para a sua História. Lisboa: Edições Documenta e Igreja da Pena. Herding, Klaus. 1970. Pierre Puget, Das bildnerische Werk. Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. —. 1995. “Puget sculpteur, Puget dessinateur”. In Pierre Puget peintre sculpteur architecte (1620–1694), edited by Marie Paule Vial, 88–169. Marseille: Musées de Marseille/Réunion des Musées Nationaux. Laurent, Stéphane. 2008–09. “Pierre Puget, une unité de l’art ‘obligée’ à l’âge classique.” Revista de História da Arte e Arqueologia 9: 51–68. Lopes, José Maria da Silva. 2001. Claude Laprade e o Túmulo da Vista Alegre. Master diss., Universidade de Lisboa.

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Machado, Inácio Barbosa de. 1759. Historia Critico-Chronologica da Instituiçam da Festa, Procissam e Officio do Corpo Santissimo de Christo. Lisboa: Oficina Patriarcal de Luiz Ameno. Marcel, Adrien. 1928. Les Péru. Sculpteurs et Architectes d´Avignon. Mémoires de l´Academie de Vauclusse. 2.ª série. vol. XVIII. Meco, José. 1979. “O pintor de azulejos Gabriel del Barco.” História e Sociedade 6: 58–67. Natividade, José da. 1747. Memoria Historica da Milagrosa Imagem do Senhor dos Passos, sita no Real Convento de S. Domingos de Lisboa; e da creação e progresso da sua irmandade. Lisboa: Oficina Alvarense. Oliveira, Eduardo Freire de. 1901. Elementos para a História do Município de Lisboa, t. XI, Lisboa: Tipografia Universal. Pereira, Sheila. 2003. O Arquitecto João Frederico Ludovice e a Quinta da Alfarrobeira. Master diss., Escola Superior de Belas-Artes Lisboa. Portugal, Fernando, and Alfredo Matos. 1974. Lisboa em 1758. Memórias Paroquiais de Lisboa. Lisboa: Câmara Municipal de Lisboa. Pozzo, Andrea. 1737–41. Perspectiva pictorum et architectorum. Roma: Antonio di Rossi. Smith, Robert. 1954. “Early Works of Claude Laprade and the Style Louis XIV in Portugal.” Gazette des Beaux-Arts 44:163–190. Requin, l'Abbé Henri. 1885. Jacques Bernus. Sa vie, son oeuvre. 1650– 1728. Vaucluse: Séguin Frères. Vale, Teresa Leonor M. 2004. Escultura Italiana em Portugal no Século XVII. Lisboa: Caleidoscópio. —. 2005. “A Figuração do Indivíduo na Tumulária Portuguesa do Maneirismo e do Barroco (séculos XVI–XVIII).” Artis—Revista do Instituto de História da Arte da Faculdade de Letras de Lisboa 4: 271– 291. —. 2001. “A Tumulária Régia da Igreja do Mosteiro de Santa Maria de Belém e a Tumulária da Capela dos Castros do Convento de S. Domingos de Benfica—uma análise paralela.” Lusíada. Arqueologia, História da Arte e Património 1: 113–129. Viale, Marie-Paule and Luc Georgete. 2014. Pierre Puget, sculpteur, peintre, architecte. Marseille: Editions Artlys. Xavier, Pedro Amaral. 1991. A iconografia Funerária no Barroco e o Túmulo do Bispo de Miranda na Capela da Vista Alegre. Master diss., Universidade de Lisboa.

ENGLAND AND FRANCE

CHAPTER FIVE FRENCH BOOK ILLUMINATION IN TIME OF WAR: MIGRATING ARTISTS BETWEEN FRANCE, NORMANDY AND ENGLAND FROM 1420 TO1450 JULIA CRISPIN

Northern French art production of the first half of the fifteenth century was characterised by a high degree of migration and cultural exchange. This was due to international political and economic links, but especially to the ongoing military conflicts between England, France and Burgundy concerning the English claim to the French throne—the so-called Hundred Years’ War.1 Shifts within the political power structure—the conquest of Paris and large parts of France by the English from 1415 onwards, the withdrawal of the English to Normandy with Rouen as their new cultural centre in the 1430s and the French recapture of Normandy in 1449—were met by the French artists in different ways. Some stayed where they were established and readily adapted to the new clients and their requirements; others followed their former patrons and contributed to the artistic and cultural exchange between England and France.2 This chapter explores Parisian and Norman book illumination workshops and their specific ways of handling the political upheavals of the time of the English occupation. It will focus on a coherent group of artists denominated as the “Talbot workshop” or the “Talbot illuminators” after John Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury, for whom they illustrated their

1

On the Hundred Years’ War see for example Allmand 1988; Contamine 1994; Curry 2003. 2 On the artistic and cultural transfer see for example Avril 1993a; Wüstefeld 2003.

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most prestigious work, the so-called Shrewsbury Book.3 This group of three to four cooperating artists was employed on numerous occasions by the English during the second quarter of the fifteenth century. They may have been trained in English-occupied Paris and then followed their English patrons to Rouen in the 1430s where they seem to have stayed when it was reconquered by the French in 1449. Other Northern French workshops, such as the “Bedford workshop” and the “Fastolf Master”, will provide useful comparisons. The former apparently worked for the English in Paris during the 1420s and, with the loss of Paris, partly returned to the French patrons and partly followed the English to Normandy.4 The latter seems to have originated in Paris and worked for the English in Normandy as well. During the 1440s, however, the artist apparently accompanied the retreating English to England and established himself in London.5 Even though the Talbot illuminators were commissioned with some of the most prestigious works of their time and some of their books have been studied thoroughly, especially by Catherine Reynolds and Franऊois Avril, no comprehensive examination of their œuvre has been carried out so far.6 It is not the purpose of this chapter to fill this void but to focus on selected manuscripts, attributed to the Talbot illuminators, discuss them in their political and cultural context and consider what they tell us about the artists’ relation to their patrons, their reaction and adjustment to the political developments of the time and its effects on the art market. The political situation in Northern France during the last phase of the Hundred Years’ War did change with rapid strides. Shortly after his accession to the throne in 1413 the English king Henry V resumed the war in France, raising his claim to the French Crown through the female line. Normandy was won in 1419, followed by further military successes on the English side (Allmand 1983, 2–23; Allmand 1985; Curry 2003, 82–89). With the treaty of Troyes in 1420 the marriage between Henry and Catherine, daughter of the French king Charles VI, was agreed upon, Henry and his heirs were declared successors to the French Crown upon the death of King Charles, and the Dauphin was disinherited (Allmand 1983, 9–49, 270–271; Curry 2003, 89–94; Curry 2008; Autrand 2009, 3

London, Royal MS 15 E. VI. On the Bedford workshop see Avril 1993c; 23-24; Sterling 1987, 419-450; Rabel and Stirnemann 2005; Reynolds 2006; König 2007, 78-88; Villela-Petit 2003, 4771; Spencer 1965; Spencer 1966. 5 On the Fastolf master see Wüstefeld 2003, 240-246; Alexander 1971; 249-251; Alexander and Pächt 1966, 53-55; Plummer 1982, 1-2, 15-16. 6 See Reynolds 1986, 211-231; Reynolds 1993; Reynolds 1994, 305-307; Reynolds 1996; Avril 1993a; Avril 1993b. See also Hedeman 2011, 100-104. 4

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577–591). After the death of Henry V and Charles VI in 1422, the English king’s infant son Henry VI succeeded to the throne of England and France—at least in the eyes of the English occupants. His uncle, John of Lancaster, the Duke of Bedford, ruled the French territories occupied by the English in his stead and was able to establish a comparatively stable government, lasting until the end of the decade (Thompson 1991; Stratford 1993a, 6–15; Schnerb 1998, 177–290) During this time Bedford benefited greatly from art production in Paris and made his mark as a patron and collector of illuminated manuscripts (Reynolds 1986, 43–57; Stratford 1987; Stratford 1993a; Stratford 1993b). He acquired several precious liturgical books, illuminated by the leading Parisian workshop which has been named as the “Bedford workshop” after the Regent, but can be traced back to the 1410s (Rabel and Stirnemann 2005; Reynolds 2006; König 2007, 78–88). Prominent examples are the so-called Bedford Hours, the core of which had probably been illuminated in the first half of the 1410s for a French patron and was subsequently adapted for Bedford and his wife in the 1420s (Spencer 1965; Backhouse 1981; König 2007).7 The illustration of the Salisbury Breviary on the other hand had probably been begun for the Duke by the same workshop but was left unfinished when he died in 1435 (Leroquais 1934, 271–348; Spencer 1966; Reynolds 1986; Sterling 1987, 435–449; Avril 1993c, 24).8 English losses and their confinement to Normandy in the 1430s profoundly affected the Northern French art market and the prerequisites for the commission and production of illuminated books. From 1429 onwards, Rouen gradually replaced Paris as the administrative and cultural centre of the English in France, and in 1436 Paris was reconquered by the French (Keen 1973, 388–394; Allmand 1983, 33–42; Curry 2003, 96–98). The members of the Bedford workshop handled this political development—the loss of the English patrons and the return of the French clients—in different ways: some of them seem to have stayed in Paris and worked for the victorious French, one of their most prominent patrons being Jean d’Orléans, Count of Dunois, for whom they illuminated the major part of a precious Book of Hours9 (Reynaud 1993b, 36–37; Reynolds 2006; Châtelet 2008). At least one member of the workshop accompanied the English patrons to the north-west and participated in the transformation of Norman art production. This process had already started in the 1420s. It went along with the decline of Paris as the cultural centre of France, owing to the consequences of the war and the absence of the 7

London, British Library, Add. MS 18850. Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, MS lat. 17294. 9 London, British Library, Yates Thompson MS 3. 8

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French royal court, a general decentralisation of the artistic patronage in France and the rise of prosperous workshops in the provincial capitals, such as Bourges, Amiens and Rouen.10 The Talbot workshop is another example of this development, and its attributed œuvre is particularly closely linked to its English patronage. Even though it is unclear whether they accompanied the English in the service of a specific patron, they seem to have established a repeated collaboration with one in Rouen: John Talbot, the Earl of Shrewsbury, for whom they illustrated two Books of Hours11 and the above mentioned Shrewsbury Book—a luxurious compilation of poems, romances and treatises which the earl presented to the English king’s bride-to-be, Marguerite d’Anjou, in 1445 in Rouen. Talbot played a crucial role in the military administration of Lancastrian France from the 1420s until his death in 1453, particularly after the loss of Paris and the confinement of the English hegemony to Normandy from the late 1430s onwards. In 1434 he was appointed lieutenant general of the Île-de-France and most of Eastern Normandy, and in 1436 he took up the captaincy of Rouen and was appointed Marshal of France. The captaincy was renewed in the early 1440s, and in 1442 Talbot was made Earl of Shrewsbury. In the following years, his military responsibilities increased further (Pollard 1983; Collins 2000, 115–128, 134–136). The majority of the 26 miniatures of Fitzwilliam MS 40–1950, one of the Books of Hours in Talbot’s possession, can be attributed to the Talbot illuminators and dated between the middle of the 1430s and the 1440s, certainly after 1425, the year of the marriage between Talbot and Margaret Beauchamp whose portraits and coats-of-arms appear in the prayer book (James 1902a, 218–232; Wormald and Giles 1982, 441–448; Backhouse and Payne 2003, 230–231; Duffy 2006, 67–80). The book follows the English liturgical Use of Sarum and contains the standard devotional texts of its time: a calendar, the Office of the Virgin and the Office of the Cross, the Penitential Psalms, a litany and the Office of the Dead. Furthermore, it includes additional prayers, hymns and suffrages, some of which were possibly added to the manuscript at a slightly later date and illuminated by different artists (Wormald and Giles 1982, 446–449; Duffy 2006, 67–80). Codicological, iconological and textual similarities suggest that it formed a pair with another Book of Hours, illuminated for Talbot and his wife in

10

On this development see Plummer 1982; Reynolds 1989; Reynolds 1994; Avril and Reynaud 1993; Lardin and Benoit 1997; Nash 1999. 11 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 1950-40; Edinburgh, Scottish Catholic Archives, Columba House, Blair’s College MS 1.

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Rouen.12 The miniatures of this slightly smaller counterpart have been attributed to a former member or follower of the Bedford workshop in Rouen (James 1902b, 232–238; Wormald and Giles 1982, 449–453; Backhouse and Payne 2003, 230–231). Fitzwilliam MS 40–1950 might not have been originally intended for John Talbot and Margaret Beauchamp, but rather begun by the workshop with no specific patron in mind and then adapted for the earl at an early stage of its production. This is suggested by the codicological evidence of the manuscript and can be assumed for other comparatively but not exceptionally elaborate Books of Hours made for English patrons in Lancastrian France as well. The liturgy and the coherence of texts, decoration and collation suggest that it was intended for an English user. However, the standard texts of the book do not contain any personal references to the patron. It is possible that the workshop prepared itself for the specific market, given by the political situation, by stocking a small number of standard Books of Hours for Norman as well as English clients, following the respective liturgical uses. These could be personalised by adding the patron’s portrait, coat-of-arms, badge or specific devotional texts. In this case, the book was customised for John Talbot and his wife by inserting an independent folio, containing the dedication miniature on the verso (Fig.5-1), between the calendar and the Office of the Virgin. This was very likely done when the manuscript was still in the workshop and possibly even before it was bound. The miniature shows the earl, wearing a surcoat with his arms, and his wife in adoration of the enthroned Virgin, presented by their patron saints George and Margaret. Beneath the miniature, the page features banners with the arms of Talbot on the left and Beauchamp on the right. Below the banners the families’ badges, the Talbot dog with a golden staff and the Beauchamp bear with the ragged staff, are displayed within garters—the symbol of the Order of the Garter, of which Talbot was a member. Talbot’s motto “mon seul desir” is written on a scroll, flanked by the banners and garters. Another example of a ready-made Book of Hours for English users, executed a bit later by the Talbot workshop or a follower and then personalised by way of the insertion of a coat-of-arms, might be found in the so-called Fitzralph Hours, owned by a member of the Fitzralph family and his wife, now in a private collection (Sotheby’s 2001, 68–71; Reynolds 1994, 306–307).13 The assumption that the Talbot illuminators were working for English and Norman patrons equally is supported by a Book of Hours of Rouen Use in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France 12 13

Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 41-1950. Sold at Sotheby’s, 6 July 2001, lot. 20.

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which has been attributed to them (Leroquais 1927, 83; Reynolds 1986, 220).14

Fig.5-1 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 40–1950, fol. 7v. © Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (MS 40–1950, f7v).

14

Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, MS lat. 13283.

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The Talbot illuminations are characterised by rather stiff and often stocky figures and distinctive, sharply drawn faces with prominent noses. Forms are clearly outlined, the colours are very bright and often hardly modelled. Catherine Reynolds described the Talbot style as varying “from the meticulous and stiff, yet pleasing, to the ludicrously incompetent” (Reynolds 1994, 306). This range of hands can also be discerned in Fitzwilliam MS 40-1950, if one compares for example the elaborate miniature of the Virgin in the Lily, introducing a hymn to the Virgin on folio 73r (Fig.5-2) with the weaker dedication miniature (Fig.5-1). The comparison casts a revealing light on the artistic cooperation within the workshop: apparently the most skilled artist of the group was not necessarily entrusted with the most prestigious page—the one specifically made for the patron and prominently positioned before the Office of the Virgin— instead it was left to a less skillful member of the workshop. The reasons for this are unclear. Maybe the dedication miniature had to be executed in a hurry and the more accomplished artist was not available. Nonetheless, Talbot obviously valued the work of this particular group of artists highly. Apart from Fitzwilliam MS 40–1950 he bought another, slightly smaller Sarum Book of Hours illustrated by the Talbot illuminators (Ker 1977, 113–118).15 Regarding the texts, in the iconographic programme and the set-up of the dedication page, it closely resembles the Cambridge books, however most of its illumination is confined to historiated initials instead of larger miniatures. A date in the 1440s, not much later than Fitzwilliam MS 40–1950, seems likely. Again, the codicological evidence suggests that the dedication page (Fig.5-3) was inserted into the otherwise not customised manuscript, when its standard sections had already been finished. It is therefore possible that this prayer book had, too, been pre-produced by the Talbot illuminators with no specific buyer in mind, but for the “English” market in general. Books of Hours were, after all, by far the most popular and widely-spread books of the fifteenth century, with the comparatively large percentage of English settlers and soldiers in Normandy under Lancastrian rule the workshop could probably count on customers for their Sarum prayer books. The most prestigious commission the Talbot workshop received from the Earl of Shrewsbury is undoubtedly the illumination of the Shrewsbury Book. In 1445 Marguerite d’Anjou, daughter of René d’Anjou, was married to the English king Henry VI. Talbot and his wife were part of the escort that received her in Rouen and accompanied her to England (Reynolds 1993, 109–112; Pollard 1983, 61, 98). On this occasion, Talbot very likely presented Marguerite, presumably as a wedding present, with 15

Edinburgh, Scottish Catholic Archives, Columba House, Blair’s College MS 1.

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this sumptuous compilation of fifteen French texts: legends, chivalric poems, romances, chronicles and military treatises. The large book is illustrated with more than 150 miniatures, of which the majority can be attributed to the Talbot illuminators (Reynolds 1993; see also Payne 2003; Merisalo 2004; Hedeman 2011; Taylor 2011). The quality of the miniatures is generally of a higher standard than those in the earl’s Books of Hours, even though several hands of varying skills were again involved. It is possible that in such a prestigious commission the master or at least the more accomplished illuminators took on more of the illustration than usual.

Fig.5-2 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 40–1950, fol. 73r, detail. © Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (MS 40–1950, f73).

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Fig.5-3 Edinburgh, Scottish Catholic Archives, Columba House, Blair’s College MS 1, fol. 4v. © Scottish Historical Collection, Blair’s College (MS 1, f4v).

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There is evidence that the book had to be compiled in a rush. This is suggested by discrepancies between the gatherings and between the contemporary table of contents and the texts. Moreover, mistakes in the contemporary numbering and alterations to the border decorations by way of clumsily inserted coats-of-arms of Talbot and Marguerite can be observed on numerous occasions throughout the book. This has been explained with the short time span between the betrothal of Marguerite to Henry in May 1444 and her arrival in Rouen in March 1445. Catherine Reynolds convincingly suggested that at least some of the illuminated texts had originally been intended for a different purpose—maybe for Talbot himself—and had to be hastily adjusted to their new purpose after the announcement of the wedding (Reynolds 1993, 110). The lack of time might also account for the fact that parts of the illumination had to be assigned to other artists available in Rouen. One of them has been identified as the Bedford-style illuminator who was also responsible for the third Book of Hours in the possession of John Talbot and Margaret Beauchamp, Fitzwilliam MS 41–1950. Apparently, he was another local artist that the Earl of Shrewsbury favoured with his patronage (Reynolds 1993, 113). The major part of the book, however, can be attributed to the Talbot illuminators, and one of their most interesting works is the dedication double page at the beginning of the Shrewsbury Book (Fig.5-4). On folio 2v, a miniature shows the actual presentation of the book (Fig.5-5): Talbot is kneeling in front of the enthroned royal couple, surrounded by courtiers, and hands his precious gift to Marguerite. He is wearing a coat, lavishly decorated with the symbol of the Order of the Garter. The white Talbot dog, his badge, accompanies him. The architecture in which the scene is set is adorned with the arms of England, France, Anjou, and the cross of Saint George. Below the miniature and the dedication text a medallion with the arms of Marguerite d’Anjou and a scroll with Talbot’s motto “mon seul desir”, incorporated into a poem and flanked by a bush of daisies and a garter encircling Talbot’s arms, are depicted. Daisies or marguerites in general feature heavily in the decoration of the page. The opposite page, folio 3r, shows a genealogical table in the shape of a Fleur-de-Lis, demonstrating Henry VI’s right to the French throne by illustrating his descent from the kings of England to the right and the kings of France to the left. Accordingly, he is being crowned by two angels with two crowns. His descent from the French king Saint Louis, who played an important role in the English propaganda of the time (Rathmann-Lutz 2010, 283–293) is focused on in the middle branch. Again, the page is

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lavishly decorated with the heraldic emblems of England and France, Marguerite d’Anjou and the Earl of Shrewsbury.

Fig.5-4 London, British Library, Royal MS 15 E. VI, fol. 2v–3r. © The British Library Board (Royal MS 15 E VI ff2v–3).

The patron, as well as the recipient of the book, are given in the French dedicatory verse: Marguerite is referred to as “princesse tres excellente”, and Talbot as “De schrosbery le conte”. He describes himself as the royal couple’s humble servant and indicates the purpose of the gift: It is—as the dedicatory verse informs us—meant to heighten the donor’s prestige in England and France, to entertain the princess and to help her not to forget her native tongue, but also to teach her about chivalric deeds and inspire her to conduct herself uprightly. Henry’s descent from Saint Louis, and therefore his rightful claim to the French Crown, illustrated on the opposite page, is explained in extenso. The dedicatory verse concludes with Talbot’s explicit wish that the royal couple and their heirs would rule England and France in peace and tranquility for a long time. Interestingly, the French pretender to the throne, Charles VII, son of Charles VI, has been omitted in the genealogical table. In fact, the illustration calls to mind the arrangements agreed upon in the treaty of Troyes 25 years earlier, when

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Fig.5-5 London, British Library, Royal MS 15 E. VI, fol. 2v, detail. © The British Library Board (Royal MS 15 E VI f2v).

the Dauphin and later Charles VII had been disinherited, and Henry V and his heirs declared successors to the French Crown. In the middle of the 1440s, however, the political situation had changed profoundly. The fortunes of war had shifted to Charles, who was successfully reconquering French territories from the English (Griffiths 1981, 459–504; Allmand 1983, 42–49, 278–283; Allmand 1988, 35–36; Pollard 1983, 51–67). The political claim expressed in the Shrewsbury Book and the political reality of the time of its production obviously differed enormously, and it is highly unlikely that the responsible artists were unaware of that. The strong political statement of the gift has been discussed extensively with regard to the recipient and to the patron’s

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intentions.16 The question arises whether the workshop entrusted with the majority of the illumination supported the pro-English political claims which were, after all, propagandised by one of their most frequent patrons, or whether they served anyone who was willing to favour them with a prestigious commission and was able to pay for it? A look at the workshop’s activity a couple of years later, when the political situation had, again, changed quite dramatically, can help to shed light on this question. In the late 1440s the English lost more and more ground in Northern France, and Charles VII successfully reconquered Normandy. In November 1449 Rouen surrendered, a few weeks later Harfleur, another important Norman stronghold, was recaptured and in spring 1450 Normandy was back to French control and the English were retreating (Allmand 1983, 46–49; Curry 2002). In many regards the shift in the political situation affected the art market in a similar way as it had in 1436, when Paris was lost. Artists had to decide whether to adapt to the “new” clientele or to follow their former patrons to England. An example of the latter is the so-called Fastolf Master (Wüstefeld 2003, 240–246; Alexander 1971, 249–251). The anonymous illuminator has been named after one of his patrons—Sir John Fastolf, an English captain who was Maître d’Hôtel to John of Bedford until 1435, and returned to England in 1439, and for whom the artist illustrated a precious vernacular manuscript in 1450 (Collins 2000; Harriss 2004).17 The artist seems to have originated in Paris and moved to Rouen around 1430 where he collaborated with the Talbot illuminators on at least one occasion. Both contributed to a Book of Hours of the Use of Thérouanne (König 1992, 244–249).18 Slightly later than Fastolf himself, during the 1440s, the illuminator appears to have moved to England and established a workshop or some sort of collaboration with other workshops in London (Wüstefeld 2003, 240–246; Alexander 1971, 249–251). The Talbot illuminators on the other hand apparently stayed in France and adjusted to the changed political circumstances, as did large parts of the Norman population.19 Instead of the English occupiers, the Talbot illuminators worked for the patrons available in Rouen. One example of their clients is the Échevinage de Rouen, or municipal council, which had 16

See for example Reynolds 1993, 110-113; Hedeman 2011, 106-114; Taylor 2011; Pérez-Simon 2014, 500-513. 17 Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Laud Misc. 570. 18 Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, Vat. lat. 14935. 19 On the Norman population see Allmand 1983, 238-240, 297-298; Lardin and Benoit 1997, 294; Curry 2002.

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already started to accumulate several expensive manuscripts during the English occupation. Their book collection was substantially augmented during the economic rise of the third quarter of the fifteenth century, and to some degree reflects the Échevinage’s increased self-confidence and prestige, as Claudia Rabel has pointed out (Rabel 1989, 48–53; see also Avril 1993a; Avril 1993b). The Talbot illuminators worked at least twice for the Échevinage. They were responsible for a single miniature in a French translation of Aristotle’s Éthiques, Politiques et Économiques20 by Nicole Oresme which was paid for in August 1455 and apparently ordered not much earlier and for most of the illumination of MS fr. 126 in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris (Reynaud 1993a, 92–93; Reynolds 1986, 220–221; Avril 1993b). This manuscript, whose patrons can be identified by the coat-of-arms of the City of Rouen inserted into the border decoration on folio 7r, is a compilation of six texts, each introduced by a miniature. It includes Gilles de Rome’s Le Regime des Princes, two works by Cicero in a translation of Laurent de Premierfait, and three works by Alain Chartier, the secretary of Charles VII, Le Curial, Le Quadrilogue invectif and the Dialogus super deploratione Galliae calamitatis. The two latter texts explicitly deplore the time of the English occupation of France and appeal for the unity of the French (Avril 1993b, 170; Reynolds 1994, 305). Similarities between MS fr. 126 and the Shrewsbury Book have been pointed out by Franऊois Avril (Avril 1993b; see also Hedeman 2011, 107– 108). Apart from size and format the similarities are particularly evident in the dedication miniature, here preceding Cicero’s De Senectute on folio 153r (see Avril and Reynaud 1993, 170 for ill.). A group of studying scholars is depicted to the left, and Laurent de Premierfait, the translator of the text, is shown to the right. He is kneeling in front of his patron, Louis de Bourbon, who is accompanied by courtiers, and hands over his work. Both of them are referred to in the prologue to the translation. The scene is set in an architectural frame topped with turrets and banners, not unlike the one in the dedication miniature of the Shrewsbury Book. The manuscript was probably ordered and executed just after 1450, hence very shortly after the English had left. Avril suggested that it might have been intended to celebrate the recovering prosperity of the town after the occupation, as an anti-English attitude is emphasised by the inclusion of the texts of Alain Chartier lamenting the foreign rule (Avril 1993b, 170). With regard to the question of how book illumination workshops handled the political developments in Northern France in the fifteenth century, MS fr. 126 allows three conclusions. Firstly, in contrast to other 20

Rouen, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS I, 2 (927).

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artists such as the Fastolf Master, the Talbot illuminators remained in France after the retreat of the English in 1449. Anti-English works, such as the writings of Chartier, would certainly not have been included in a book ordered by the City Council under Lancastrian rule. Secondly, the workshop seems to have mastered the transition into the new political situation extremely well. The commission by the Échevinage de Rouen was probably almost as prestigious as Talbot’s order. Thirdly, ruling out the option that the Talbot illuminators had been secretly hating the English for about twenty years while continuously working for them and collaborating with them, the following can be inferred: the Talbot workshop’s approach towards the political developments of their time and the change from the English to the French regime was apparently highly pragmatic. Once they had established a prosperous business in Rouen which was worth keeping, they chose not to migrate but to stay there and adjust to the altered political circumstances.

Bibliography Alain Chartier, Le Quadriloge invectif, Dialogus super deploratione Galliae calamitatis, Le Curial.” In Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520, edited by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 170–171. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. Alexander, Jonathan G. 1971. “A lost leaf from a Bodleian Book of Hours.” Bodleian Library Records 8: 248–251. Alexander, Jonathan G. and Otto Pächt. 1966. Illuminated Manuscripts in the Bodleian Library. vol. 1. Oxford: The Bodleian Library. Allmand, Christopher T. 1983. Lancastrian Normandy, 1415–1450: The History of a Medieval Occupation. Oxford: Clarendon Press. —. 1985. “Henry V the Soldier, and the War in France.” In Henry V: The Practice of Kingship, edited by Gerald L. Harriss, 117–135. Oxford: Sutton Publishing. Allmand, Christopher T. 1988. The Hundred Years’ War: England and France at War, c. 1300–c.1450. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Autrand, Françoise. 2009. Charles VI: La folie du roi. Paris: Fayard. Avril, Franऊois. 1993a. “La Normandie.” In Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520, edited by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 169. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. —. 1993b. “Gilles de Rome, Le Régime des princes. Cicéron, De l’amitié, De la vieillesse (traduction de Laurent de Premierfait).

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—. 1993c. “Le Maître de Bedford.” In Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520, edited by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 23– 24. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. Avril, François and Nicole Reynaud, eds. 1993. Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. Backhouse, Janet M. 1981. “A Reappraisal of the Bedford Hours.” British Library Journal vii: 47–69. Backhouse, Janet M. and Ann Payne. 2003. “Books of Hours of John Talbot and Margaret Beauchamp, Earl and Countess of Shrewsbury.” In Gothic: Art for England 1400–1547, edited by Richard Marks and Paul Williamson, 230–231. London: V&A Publications. Châtelet, Abert. 2008. “Les Heures de Dunois.” Art de l’enluminure 25: 12–73. Collins, Hugh E. L. 2000. “Sir John Fastolf, John Lord Talbot and the dispute over Patay: Ambition and chivalry in the fifteenth century.” In War and society in medieval and early modern Britain, edited by Diana Dunn, 114–140. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press. Contamine, Philippe. 1994. La guerre de Cent Ans, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. Curry, Anne. 2002. “The Loss of Lancastrian Normandy: An administrative nightmare?” In The English experience in France c. 1450–1558: War, diplomacy, and cultural exchange, edited by David Grummitt, 24–45. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing. —. 2003. The Hundred Years’ War. London: Palgrave Macmillan. —. 2008. “Two Kingdoms, One King: The Treaty of Troyes (1420) and the Creation of a Double Monarchy of England and France.” In The contending kingdoms: France and England, 1430–1700, edited by Glenn Richardson, 23–42. Aldershot: Ashgate Publishing. Duffy, Eamon. 2006. Marking the Hours: English People & their Prayers 1240–1570. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Griffiths, Ralph A. 1981. The Reign of King Henry VI: The exercise of Royal Authority 1422–1461. London: Ernest Benn. Harriss, Gerald L. 2004. “Fastolf, Sir John.” In Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, edited by H.C.G. Matthew and Brian Harrison, vol. 19, 134–136. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hedeman, Anne D. 2011. “Collecting images: The Role of the Visual in the Shrewsbury Book (BL Ms. Royal 15 E. vi).” In Collections in Context: The Organization of Knowledge and Community in Europe, edited by Karen Fresco and Anne D. Hedeman, 99–119. Columbus: Ohio State University Press.

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James, Montagu R. 1902a. “The Talbot Hours.” In A descriptive catalogue of the second series of fifty manuscripts (Nos. 51 to 100) in the collection of Henry Yates Thompson, edited by Henry Yates Thompson, 218–232. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. James, Montagu R. 1902b. “Hours of Margaret Beauchamp.” In A descriptive catalogue of the second series of fifty manuscripts (Nos. 51 to 100) in the collection of Henry Yates Thompson, edited by Henry Yates Thompson, 232–238. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Keen, Maurice H. 1973. England in the Later Middle Ages. London: Routledge. Ker, Neil R. 1977. Medieval Manuscripts in British Libraries. Vol. 2. Oxford: Oxford University Press. König, Eberhard. 1992. “Stundenbuch Vat. lat. 14935 (York 1).” In Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Liturgie und Andacht, edited by Joachim M. Plotzek et al, 244–249. Stuttgart: Belser. König, Eberhard. 2007. Die Bedford Hours. Das reichste Stundenbuch des Mittelalters. Stuttgart: Theiss. Lardin, Philippe and Paul Benoit. 1997. “Les élites artisanales au service de la ville. Les cas de Paris et de Rouen à la fin du Moyen Age.” In Les Élites urbaines du moyen âge (XXVIIe Congrès de la société des historiens médiévistes), edited by Claude Gauvard, 287–304. Paris and Rome: Publications de la Sorbonne. Leroquais, Victor. 1927. Les livres d’heures manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Nationale. Vol. 3. Paris: Maçon, Protat frères. —. 1934. Les bréviaires manuscrits des bibliothèques publiques de France. Vol. 3. Paris: Maçon, Protat frères. Merisalo, Outi. 2004. “Un codice Miscellaneo per Margherita d’Angiò (London, British Library, Royal 15.E.VI).” Segno e testo: International journal of manuscripts and text transmission 2: 445–458. Nash, Susie. 1999. Between France and Flanders: Manuscript Illumination in Amiens in the Fifteenth Century. London and Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Payne, Ann. 2003. “The Shrewsbury Book.” In Gothic: Art for England 1400–1547, edited by Richard Marks and Paul Williamson, 182–183. London: V&A Publications. Pérez-Simon, Maud. 2014. Mise en roman et mise en image: Les manuscrits du Roman d’Alexandre en prose. Paris: Champion. Plummer, John. 1982. The Last Flowering: French Painting in Manuscripts 1420–1530 from American Collections. New York and London: Oxford University Press.

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Pollard, Anthony J. 1983. John Talbot and the War in France 1427–1453. London: Royal Historical Society. Rabel, Claudia. 1989. “Artiste et clientèle à la fin du Moyen Age. Les manuscrits profanes du Maître de l’échevinage de Rouen.” Revue de l’Art 84: 48–60. Rabel, Claudia and Patricia Stirnemann. 2005. “The ‘Très Riches Heures’ and two artists associated with the Bedford workshop.” Burlington Magazine 147: 534–538. Rathmann-Lutz, Anja. 2010. ‚Images‘ Ludwigs des Heiligen im Kontext dynastischer Konflikte des 14. und 15. Jahrhunderts. Berlin: Akademie Verlag. Reynaud, Nicole. 1993a. “Aristote, Éthiques, Politiques et Économiques. Traduction de Nicole Oresme.” In Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520, edited by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 92– 93. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. —. 1993b. “L’Associé principal du Maître de Bedford ou Maître de Dunois.” In Les Manuscrits à peinture en France, 1440–1520, edited by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud, 36–37. Paris: Flammarion, Bibliothèque Nationale. Reynolds, Catherine. 1986. “The Salisbury Breviary, Paris, BN, MS. lat. 17294, and some related manuscripts.” PhD diss., Courtauld Institute of Art, University of London. —. 1989. “‘Les Angloys, de leur droicte nature, veullent touzjours guerreer’: Evidence for Painting in Paris and Normandy, c. 1420– 1450.” In Power, Culture, and Religion in France c. 1350–c.1550, edited by Christopher T. Allmand, 37–55. Woodbridge: Boydell Press. —. 1993. “The Shrewsbury Book, British Library, Royal MS 15 E. VI.” In Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology at Rouen, edited by Jenny Stratford, 109–116. Leeds: Maney Publishing. —. 1994. “English patrons and French artists in Fifteenth-Century Normandy.” In England and Normandy in the Middle Ages, edited by David Bates and Anne Curry, 299–313. London and Rio Grande: Continuum. —. 1996. “Talbot Master.” In The Dictionary of Art, edited by Jane Turner, vol. 20, 772. London: Macmillan. —. 2006. “The workshop of the Master of the Duke of Bedford: Definitions and Identities.” In Patrons, Authors and Workshops: Books and Book Production in Paris around 1400, edited by Godfried Croenen and Peter Ainsworth, 437–472. Leuven: Peeters Pub. Schnerb, Bertrand. 1998. Les Armagnacs et les Bourguignons: La maudite guerre. Paris: Librairie Académique Perrin.

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Sotheby’s. 2001. “Lot. 20.” In A Selection of Illuminated Manuscripts from the 13th to the sixteenth Centuries, the Property of Mr. J. R. Ritman. Sold for the Benefit of the Bibliotheca Philosophica Hermetica, Amsterdam, London, 6. Juli 2000. 68–71. Spencer, Eleanor P. 1965. “The Master of the Duke of Bedford: The Bedford Hours.” Burlington Magazine 107: 495–502. —. 1966. “The Master of the Duke of Bedford: The Salisbury Breviary.” Burlington Magazine 108: 607–612. Sterling, Charles. 1987. La peinture médiévale à Paris 1300–1500. vol. 1. Paris: Bibliothèque des Arts. Stratford, Jenny. 1987. “The manuscripts of John, duke of Bedford: library and chapel.” In England in the Fifteenth Century, edited by Daniel Williams, 329–350. Woodbridge: Boydell Press. —. 1993a. The Bedford inventories: The Worldly Goods of John, Duke of Bedford, Regent of France (1389–1435). London: Society of Antiquaries. —. 1993b. “John, Duke of Bedford, as Patron in Lancastrian Rouen.” In Medieval Art, Architecture and Archaeology at Rouen, edited by Jenny Stratford, 98–108. Leeds: Maney Publishing. Taylor, Craig. 2011. “The Treatise Cycle of the Shrewsbury Book, BL Ms. Royal 15 E. vi.” In Collections in Context: The Organization of Knowledge and Community in Europe, edited by Karen Fresco and Anne D. Hedeman, 134–150. Columbus: Ohio State University Press. Thompson, Guy Llewelyn. 1991. Paris and its people under English rule: The Anglo-Burgundian Regime 1420–1436. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Villela-Petit, Inès. 2003. Le Bréviaire de Châteauroux. Paris: Somogy. Wormald, Francis, and Phyllis M. Giles. 1982. A descriptive catalogue of the Additional illuminated manuscripts in the Fitzwilliam Museum acquired between 1895 and 1979. Vol. 2. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wüstefeld, W.C.M. 2003. “A remarkable prayer roll attributed to the Master of Sir John Fastolf (Rouen c. 1440, Utrecht, Museum Catharijneconvent, MS ABM, h4a).” Quaerendo 33: 233–246.

CHAPTER SIX FLEMISH IMMIGRANTS IN SOUTH-EAST ENGLAND DURING THE SIXTEENTH AND EARLY SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES: THEIR ROLES AS TRENDSETTERS AMONG THE CULTURE OF THE GENTRY CLEMENCE MATHIEU

The aim of this chapter is to investigate the artistic and architectural exchanges associated with the massive influx of immigrants from the Low Countries during the sixteenth and the first half of the seventeenth centuries in the specific context of the culture of the gentry and their manor houses.1 The study, underpinned by a gazetteer of 73 manor houses in East Anglia (Mathieu 2013, 20–28), seeks to evaluate the degree of integration of “Flemish” culture into East Anglian manor houses and the reasons behind it.2 The analysis of outer and inner aspects of the manor houses will be followed by an exploration of the channels of transmission of cultural elements from the continent. The interest of the study lies in the fact that Renaissance influence mostly reached England through its Burgundian interpretation: the Low Countries functioned as a hub for the introduction of Italian architectural theory into England (De Jonge 1998, 281–296).

1 The period under consideration covers the reign of the Tudors and the first part of the early Stuart period, from the coronation of Henry VIII (1509) to the end of the reign of James I (1625). The endpoint of this study is also determined by changes in the field of architecture brought about by Inigo Jones from the 1630s. 2 We shall use the generic term “Flemish”, very commonly used to describe immigrants from the Low Countries, but in reality these included Flemishspeaking as well as French-speaking people.

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The literature on manor houses in England during the Tudor and Jacobean period (Howard 1987, 112–199; Airs 1995, 14–143; Cooper 1999, 55–154) and on the social and economic aspects of the immigrants (Yungblut 1996, 61–117; Luu 2005, 1–26; Esser 2005, 125–147) has proliferated over the last 20 years. Nevertheless, the specific impact of immigrant culture on the architecture and decorative features of the manor houses has never been studied as such. Trade relationships between the Low Countries and England at the level of the court and the aristocracy are well known in the Tudor era (Murray 1957 837–854; Barron and Saul 1995, 1–28; Brown 1996 340–354; Wells–Cole 1997, 95–123). It is known through several authors that the Tudor court Renaissance integrates many Flemish elements into architecture as well as into the material culture, such as tapestries, textiles, paintings (Kipling 1977, 1–30; Belozerskaya 2002, 1–9). Nevertheless, far less attention has been paid to the architecture and material culture of the gentry. This research focuses on East Anglia, a region which is geographically close to London and includes Channel ports where the concentration of Flemish immigrants was most significant (Corfield 2000, 31–48).3 Many goods were arriving from the Low Countries to England through the East Anglian ports, making it a particularly interesting region to study. Once in England, most of the immigrants practised as merchants or craftsmen and acted as trendsetters, contributing to the diffusion of cultural features associated with the Low Countries and the culture of the Renaissance.

The immigrants The massive migration of Flemish people to England during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is mostly due to the religious context. Many Protestants were fleeing the persecutions of the Spanish Catholic authorities in the Low Countries. These started in 1522, when King Charles V instituted the Inquisition in order to condemn all heretics, including Protestants, to death (Pettegree 1986, 9–22). The economic profit was also an unofficial reason for migration. Between 1550 and 1585, approximately 40,000 to 50,000 refugees arrived in England (Luu 2005, 3–4), the majority of whom settled in London and the coastal cities such as Colchester, Sandwich, Southampton, Norwich, Ipswich and Great Yarmouth. They tended to settle in areas where guild restrictions were lax or non-existent. The foreign communities 3 East Anglia is taken here to include the counties of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk and Cambridgeshire.

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grew rapidly: from 400 migrants in Sandwich in 1561, it reached 2000 in the 1570s (more than half of the population), and in Norwich it reached 4000 in 1571 (a third of the total population), and 4678 in 1582 (Gwynn 1985, 202–219). The influence of these immigrants on the development of industry, commerce, finance and agriculture was very important, leading to the development of international commerce and the emulation of techniques and fashions learned abroad (Goose and Luu 2005, 136–160). These people had a deep impact on the mentalities and the economic and social way of life in south-east England (Murray 1957). Since many of them were merchants and craftsmen, they brought new skills with them such as drapery, brewery, silk-weaving, and goldsmith’s work, thus offering a rich source of trade skills and technical expertise. High standards of manufacture were introduced into many crafts such as the production of paper, tapestries, and jewellery (Hefford 2002, 43–61). The most prominent members of the foreign communities were often merchants, who were generally wealthy enough to own property and to possess important material goods. Some of the immigrants became settled and prosperous, often several decades after the first arrivals. A small minority reached the level of the gentry through mercantile activities. The leading foreign merchants of the Elizabethan period were the Houblon, Palavicino (from Italy), De Malines, Fortrey, Corsellis, Van Peine, Tryan, Buskell, Cursini, De Best and Cottet families (Smiles 1867, 111). Nevertheless, most of them seem to have returned to their country of origin owing to continued discrimination and a lack of legal status (Luu 2005, 57–58).

The East Anglian manor houses: between cultural influence and architectural specificities Outer aspects An important characteristic of English manor houses in the period under consideration was their outward-looking character. Most of the architectural layouts had a central structure surrounded by projecting wings (Quiney 1990, 28–42), which could be arranged in diverse ways. This kind of architectural structure is opened on one or several sides. This contrasts with the previous courtyard plan, which was characterized by its closure. The opening of the structure goes with the presence of large windows and results from a wish for architectural display (Cooper 1999, 79). Large windows opened up the houses to reinforce the link between

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the inner life of the manor house and the surrounding gardens and landscape (Strong 1984, 45–71). The size of the windows reflected the increasing desire for comfort and light and displayed the family’s wealth to pay for both glass and heating. Blind walls and gun loops in the medieval tradition were excluded. This contrasts with the manor houses in the Low Countries, which retained that type of structure at least until the end of the seventeenth century, together with the presence of a moat (Mathieu 2012, 254–311). In the Low Countries, the English horizontal hierarchy was non-existent; instead, the houses were composed of apartments of several interconnecting rooms (Vandenbroeck 1990, 41–62). The influence of the Flemish architectural tradition on the outer aspects and structure of East Anglian manor houses can be seen essentially in the use of building materials and in architectural details of the façades. The use of brick is predominant in East Anglian manor houses of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. East Anglia was a very flat region with unsuitable stone for building, leading to the dominance of this material (Lloyd 1983, 10–15). Moreover, the red brick was associated with prestige. It was used for Tudor buildings of the aristocracy and court, such as the palace of Whitehall in London (Foreman 1995, 5–12). This is seemingly influenced by the buildings of the Burgundian princes in the Low Countries and probably explains its success among the gentry. It was also preferred to stone due to its cheap and easy method of production. By contrast to the total lack of decorative elements in the manor houses of the Low Countries, East Anglian manor houses developed many ornamental features on their facades. Some of them were associated with Renaissance principles and some linked to the culture of the Tudor nobility. An ornamental feature inspired by Renaissance principles, the socalled Dutch gable, which is a shaped gable, is famous in East Anglia. It is generally mentioned as evidence of the influence from the Low Countries on English architecture (Cudworth 1939, 113–118). Nevertheless, a more nuanced interpretation is necessary, since this kind of gable was a Renaissance feature not specific to the Low Countries, even though it may have reached England through Flemish tradition. The shaped gable seems to have originated in Renaissance Italy, and could have been circulated in England through continental prints. Furthermore, this type of gable was not adopted in the aristocratic buildings of the Low Countries: it was prevalent in town and city settlements, as seen in the prints of Hans Vredeman de Vries’s book Scenographiae, sive perspectivae published in Antwerp in 1560 (Jervis 1974, plates 119–121). It became a fashionable architectural element all over England. Among the first examples in the English aristocratic

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buildings, is Kirby Hall, in Gretton, Northamptonshire, built in 1570 for Sir Christopher Hatton (Airs 1995, 21). However, the way these gables were employed in the English buildings was completely different from their continental counterparts. Whereas in Northern European townhouses they crowned the main façade, in England such gables are repeated as a purely decorative feature. One of the best examples in East Anglian manor houses is probably Beaumont Hall, in Harkstead, Suffolk, built in 1675 (Cudworth 1939, 113–118; Fig.6-1).

Fig.6-1 View of the front façade of Beaumont Hall, in Harkstead, Suffolk, built in 1675. © Clemence Mathieu.

Other classical features developed in East Anglian manor houses include pediments over windows and entrance doors framed by pilasters and columns. A doorway in Seckford Hall (Great Bealings, Suffolk) (Kenworthy-Browne 1981, 261; Fig.6-2) can be compared with a print by Hans Vredeman de Vries from 1588 (Jervis 1974, plate 141). The door is framed by fluted pilasters resting on panelled plinths and surmounted by a pediment with three ball finials, exactly as in the print. These features were generally not adopted in manor houses in the Low Countries. The Flemish gentry was rather attached to a type of house recalling the defensive character of medieval buildings (De Jonge 2003, 409–423; Mathieu 2012, 115–253). Instead, they mainly appear in urban settlements

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Fig.6-2 View of the doorway at the rear of the left-hand wing of Seckford Hall, in Great Bealings Suffolk, built at the end of the sixteenth century. © Clemence Mathieu.

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and in the residences of the aristocracy (De Jonge 2007, 55–78). The influence of the English aristocracy and court members who were already using classical elements in their buildings may have played a role in the diffusion of these features among the English gentry’s manor houses. East Anglian manor houses also reveal specific English decorative features introduced to the residences of the Tudor court and aristocracy: brick polygonal buttresses and chimney-stacks. The polygonal buttresses were placed at the corners of the buildings and extended above the top of the wallhead like pinnacles. Together with the chimney-stacks, they created a strong ornamental verticality. This type of structure is exclusively linked with decorative and prestigious aspects, since the height is not a practical consideration. They are important skyline features of Tudor and Jacobean manor houses, thereby giving the buildings a recognizable appearance from afar, as well as contributing to the ostentatious character of the noble house (Girling 1936, 104–107). English builders integrated elements of diverse influences (urban culture and buildings of the aristocracy), and sources (continental or English) into their manor houses, creating their own specific building tradition. The taste for ornamentation in East Anglian manor houses can be related to a question of prestige and a desire for display in the context of a growing social group trying to reach the higher ranks of the nobility.

Inner aspects There is a deep influence of continental sources on the inner decoration of East Anglian manor houses. The creative process often involved diverse iconographical media (prints, movable items, architecture and decorative elements such as overmantels, wooden panellings, plaster ceilings, wall paintings). The Flemish sources were prominent, even though the influence of German, French and Italian prints was not negligible (Mathieu 2013, 44–66). The most common types of design were drawn from antique examples of ornament (imitation of architectural structures, term figures, grotesque ornament with floral or scroll motifs) and allegorical topics (series of the Five Senses, the Four Continents, the Seven Virtues, the Four Elements). The fact that decorative features were located in the most important rooms of the house, such as the reception room or the main living rooms, indicates that they were associated with a desire for display and prestige. Antique architectural elements are among the most frequently referenced types of ornament reproduced on Tudor and Jacobean overmantels and furniture pieces such as chairs, chests or cupboards (Chinnery 1986, 168–

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174; Wells-C Cole 1997, 822–85). One ex xample is a deesign composeed of two or three rouund-headed arches a decoratted with a brraid design reesting on fluted pilastters. The paneels within each h arch can be separated by pilasters, decorative ffriezes or term m figures. Thiss type of desiign is depicted d by Paul Vredeman dde Vries in his h book Versccheyden Schry rynwerck als Portalen, P Kleerkassenn, Buffetten, Ledikanten, published p in Amsterdam in 1630 (Jervis 19744, plate 327) and by Crispiijn de Passe III, in his book k Oficina Arcularia inn qua sunt, published p in Utrecht U in 16 21 (Jervis 19 974, plate 296). One oof the most innteresting exaamples of thiis category is the wall painting loccated on the first fi floor of a playhouse inn Otley Hall, in Otley, Suffolk, buiilt around 15888 by Robert Gosnold G III (F Fig.6-3) (Hagg ger 2001, 23–25). Thee depicted terrm figures were w certainly taken from the book Caryatidum by Lucas or Johannes J Dueetecum after Jaan Vredeman de Vries, printed in Antwerp in 1565 (Wells-Cole 1997, 82–84). Theey could, perhaps, reppresent Robertt Gosnold III and his wife U Ursula, as thee depicted moustache aand beard of the man sugg gest it (Haggger 2001, 23– –25). This type of figuure usually foollows a stereeotype, whichh does not incclude this level of detaail (Wells-Colle 1997, 82–84 4).

Fig.6-3 View w of a part of the t wall paintiing, first floor of Otley Hall,, in Otley, Suffolk, end of sixteenth ceentury. © Clem mence Mathieuu, with permisssion of the owners of Otlley Hall.

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The above-mentioned design seems to have been a frequently reproduced pattern, used on diverse media as well as on furniture pieces, at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth centuries. Examples include a wooden overmantel located in a room of the ground floor of the Sparrow’s house in Ipswich, remodelled by William Sparrow in 1603 (Pevsner 1961, 301–302), the plaster decoration above the entrance porch of Felbrigg Hall in Felbrigg, built in 1620 by Thomas Wyndham (Maddison 1995, 37–38) and a wall painting coming from Cumberland Lodge in St Helen Street, in Ipswich, dating from the beginning of the seventeenth century, and now preserved in Christchurch Mansion, in Ipswich (Butler 1980, 40–42). Another type of architectural design can be seen on a wooden overmantel now preserved at St John’s College, in Cambridge (Sperling 1994, 1–16). This chimney-piece was executed for a private Flemish household in Cambridge in 1594 and was removed to the Combination Room of St John’s College in 1919. John Vepen, originally from the Low Countries, made his fortune as a fish merchant, leading to his rise in status. The overmantel is composed of three wooden inlaid panels representing an imaginary architectural scene in perspective consisting of three open arches over a lake with swans. The design can be related to two prints from Hans Vredeman de Vries’s book Variae architecturae formae published in Antwerp in 1560 (Jervis, plate 138). This type of pattern seems to have had a peculiar success in Germany, and especially in Cologne, where important developments to inlay design evolved at the end of the sixteenth century (Kreisel 1968, plates 336–338). They were later transferred to England, notably through cabinet-makers from Tyrol, South Germany and the Low Countries who settled in Southwark (Forman 1971, 94–111). In various pieces of furniture, such as the Great Bed of Ware, probably commissioned about 1590 from one of the Rhenish inlayworkers who settled in Southwark, we can find the depiction of a similar architecture, indicating the same artistic conception (Kreisel 1968, 336– 338).4 One particular type of decorative feature, comprising a central medallion surrounded by grotesque ornament, achieved obvious success, as it can frequently be seen on wooden furniture pieces, panellings and overmantels. Longstowe Hall, in Longstowe, Cambridgeshire, mainly rebuilt in the nineteenth century, has wooden panelling in the hall with this type of ornament. It may date from 1605, when the earlier phase of construction of the house was undertaken by Anthony Cage (KenworthyBrowne 1981, 20; Fig.6-4). It is known that he brought back wooden 4

Victoria and Albert Museum, London, no. W.47-1931.

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panelling from Flanders; the high quality of the execution of this feature suggests indeed that it was carved by Flemish craftsmen (Chinnery 1986, 422).

Fig.6-4 View of a detail of the wooden panelling, ground floor of Longstowe Hall, in Longstowe, Cambridgeshire, built in 1605 by Anthony Cage. © Clemence Mathieu, with permission of the owners of Longstowe Hall.

The phenomenon of copying and cultural emulation was also an important factor for the spreading of a specific type of pattern. One group of wall paintings with a repetitive scheme of candelabra has been identified in and around Ipswich (Kirkham 2010, 92–95). This type of pattern consists of a grisaille background of black or grey, with white motifs. The design is structured by a candelabra-type ornament occupying the whole height of the painting, which can be repeated several times. On each side of the candelabra grotesque ornaments are depicted, taking the form of floral scroll motifs, animals or semi-human figures. Four wall paintings of this type have been identified. One is in a room on the first floor of the Sparrow’s house in Ipswich, and dates to the end of the sixteenth century (Pevsner 1961, 301–302). Two others are now located in Christchurch Mansion, in Ipswich, but originally came from the house of Eldred the Navigator, in Ipswich (end of the sixteenth century) and the Red House, in Sproughton, Suffolk (sixteenth century) respectively (Butler

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1980, 40–42). The last one is located in Polstead Hall, in Polstead, Suffolk (a few miles from Ipswich), built by the Waldegraves family around 1550– 60 (Kenworthy-Browne 1981, 256; Fig.6-5). Similarities between their compositions and ornamental designs are interesting and suggest that they originate from one common iconographical source, maybe from the same craftsman or workshop, or a mutual emulation between different patrons. Nevertheless, in Polstead Hall the differences in the motifs around the candelabra suggest further inspiration from other sources.

Fig.6-5 View of a detail of the wall painting, first floor of Polstead Hall, in Polstead, Suffolk, Around 1598. © Clemence Mathieu, with permission of the owners of Polstead Hall.

While examining the allegorical subjects, the religious context has to be taken into consideration, since it had a deep influence on the development of some themes, to the detriment of others. One aspect of the Reformation was that images of saints and the New Testament became unacceptable, especially in churches, although stories of the Old Testament were permitted (Hamling 2007). The representations of biblical scenes are quite rare among East Anglian manor houses. It seems that some people preferred to develop other themes linked to allegorical series. In most cases, these representations were linked to continental prints, mostly executed by Flemish artists and produced in Antwerp.

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One allegorical topic, which seems to have been particularly appreciated in East Anglian manor houses, is the series of the Five Senses. The series, printed in 1561 by Cornelius Cort in Antwerp after designs by Frans Floris (relying partly on Pliny’s Naturalis Historia, X, 88) was popular in the Low Countries until the seventeenth century (Veldman 2006, 215–219). The sense of Smell is depicted by a dog smelling a bunch of flowers which a seated woman is arranging in a vase. Taste shows a seated woman taking fruit out of a basket and an ape eating some fruit next to her. Touch shows an eagle pecking the fingers of a seated woman, with a tortoise at her feet. Hearing is depicted by a woman playing a violin next to a lying deer. Sight shows a seated woman holding a mirror which reflects her face, and an eagle next to her. This topic can be found in several wall paintings, such as in Madingley Hall, in Madingley, Cambridgeshire, from the end of the sixteenth century (Bales 1957), Childerley Hall, in Childerley, Cambridgeshire, around 1647 (Watkin 1969) and Langley Hall, in Langley, Essex, around 1600 (Turner 1927, 40–42). In Langley Hall, the designs are reproduced faithfully on the plastered overmantel of the drawing room, but in Childerley Hall and Madingley Hall they are partially reproduced and mixed with scrolling floral structure and candelabra ornament. This shows that in some cases the link with one specific source is obvious, while in other cases the design is the result of a mix of various patterns. The engravings could have been used directly as a source for the execution of these wall paintings. The presence of the same patterns in houses of the upper aristocracy played an important role in the process of emulation as well. For example, the depiction of the series of the Five Senses can be seen in the central panels of the plaster ceiling of the long gallery in Blickling Hall, in Blickling, Norfolk (built between 1618 and 1629 for Sir Henry Hobart), executed by Edward Stanyon in 1620 under the direction of Robert Lyminge (Pevsner 1997, 400–401). This theme was successful not only in noble houses, but also in other types of buildings, such as a wall painting preserved in a room of the first floor in the northeast corner of the second court in St John’s College, in Cambridge, dating from around 1600 (Curteis 2002, 6). There is no specific explanation as to why the series of the Five Senses was so attractive to the upper gentry. Emulation and competition between builders and patrons are likely to have motivated copies of specific patterns.

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The channels of transmission of decorative patterns The people Flemish immigrants were numerous in East Anglia, but it is very difficult to identify the extent to which they played a role in the building and decoration of manor houses, thereby acting as trendsetters. They certainly brought with them technical expertise, ideas and ways of thinking which influenced the English. Among these foreigners, the most important for the transmission of ideas were the merchants, builders, artists and craftsmen (including surveyors, masons, sculptors, joiners and painters). Through their connections with London and the Low Countries, they very probably functioned as agents in conveying innovations in design (Cust 1903; Esdaile 1943; Girouard 1959; Forman 1971). Although the names of a few craftsmen, sculptors and artists are known in connection with building sites of the court and aristocracy, most of them remain unknown because of their itinerant existence, the small scale of their projects and the lack or dispersal of documentary sources (Girouard 1959, 26–35). Some archives concerning the building sites of the court and aristocracy prove that most of the workmen were moving around from one building site to another. For example, the accounts of construction of Redgrave Hall, in Redgrave, Suffolk (built around 1545 for Sir Nicholas Bacon) reveal that the masons who had worked on the building of Christchurch Mansion, in Ipswich, for Edmund Withipoll (1548–50), were sent to the site of Redgrave Hall (Sandeen 1964, 23). Nevertheless, it is very difficult to trace the origins of the craftsmen working on the building sites of manor houses, since often the accounts of construction mention only the surname of the person without giving any details of their origins: for the building site of Felbrigg Hall, there is a mention of Linacre the glazier, or Stockdale the carpenter (Ketton-Kremer 1962, 35). As underlined by Benno Forman, very little is known of the immigrants’ contributions to furniture, cabinet making, and interior decoration, especially because carvers were often considered the same as joiners (Forman 1971, 94–111). Forman also insists on the fact that, at a simpler level, the joiner himself undertook less sophisticated forms of carving. This flexibility between types of labour may also be seen among the painters and plasterers who carried out decorative schemes. Craftsmen of all sorts (surveyors, masons, sculptors, joiners and painters) often performed diverse activities. It is therefore impossible to provide a systematic overview of the foreign craftsmen working in East Anglian manor houses. It may,

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however, be possible to tentatively attribute projects to a particular workshop or craftsmen based on the recurrence of certain patterns of structures, as seen on the wall paintings with candelabras in Ipswich. The circulation of people, whether craftsmen or patrons, throughout England and the continent, as well as their social and familial contacts in those places must have played a role in the transmission of designs. Furthermore, we know the importance of individual English people who were influenced by Flemish culture and contributed to its spread in England. There is an interesting case of a mason, William Edge, who after travelling in the Low Countries in 1620, worked in Hunstanton Hall, in Hunstanton, Norfolk, where the entrance porch with strapwork shows a direct influence of the prints of Hans Vredeman de Vries (Jervis 1974, plates 134–140).

Prints and architectural books Prints and architectural books functioned as vehicles of transmission of Renaissance designs. Antwerp was a major centre of printing in the sixteenth century; many architectural treatises and pattern books incorporating Renaissance decorative and architectural elements were printed there. The most famous ones are the treatises of Pieter Coeck van Aelst, Jacob Floris, Hubrecht Goltzius, Adriaen Collaert, Hans and Paul Vredeman de Vries (De Jonge 1998). Owing to Antwerp’s direct links with the port cities of England, these prints were quickly circulated among the English elite. Nevertheless, it is impossible to give a precise view of the distribution of continental prints in Elizabethan and Jacobean England, since very few sources testify to their presence. While some of the prints were in the personal libraries of wealthy families, others were probably working materials in various workshops, not bound into a book, but merely loose sheets, which could be copied, borrowed and transported easily (Jones 2002, 1–63). Prints could pass from one family to another by legacy, as we see with the case of Robert Sturdee, an English-born mason. He married the daughter of William Cure, a Flemish mason settled in England, who was the carver of the decorative sculpture at Nonsuch Palace, in Surrey (White 2004, 710–711). In his will, Robert Sturdee mentions that he received part of his father-in-law’s patterns, including designs for monuments. In her research on books on art, architecture and perspective in library lists of the period 1580–1630, Lucy Gent proves that it is very difficult to give a precise idea of the books which were in private collections during the sixteenth century, since information about the distribution and

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ownership of books on the visual arts is very scarce (Gent 1981, 66–86). Library inventories and catalogues are the most important sources of information, but few results are relevant to this study, since the library inventories containing mention of architectural treatises generally belonged to members of the upper aristocracy. Nevertheless, although only few lists survive, this does not mean that book collections were not extensive; Gent insists that there were more copies of treatises in existence than what survive today and that even though library lists do not mention some books, they were probably circulating in England, in some cases by lending or borrowing.

Movable items Many portable elements such as furniture, boxes, jewels, paintings and tapestries conveyed particular genres of visual culture and probably contributed to the diffusion of certain types of motifs. There was a similarity between designs displayed on furniture pieces such as chairs, chests and cupboards, and the ornaments adopted on overmantels, wooden panellings and wall paintings. These movable features could have been imported either from the Low Countries or elsewhere in the continent by immigrants, or produced in England by foreign or English craftsmen using similar patterns (Foister 1981; 273–282. Chinnery 1986, 168–174). An example of an item produced in England by a Flemish craftsman is a claviorgan preserved in the Victoria and Albert Museum, made in 1579 by Lodovic Theewes in London and decorated with strapwork design (Thornton 1998, 55).5 It is nevertheless very difficult to gain specific insight into the material culture of the English gentry, since the provenance of these items is generally not mentioned in the wills and inventories of manor houses and it is rare for these movable contents to be preserved on site today. Many foreign artefacts were assembled later by the owners of the manor houses. Collecting Flemish and Dutch paintings was, for example, very fashionable during the eighteenth century (Moore 1988, 11–24). There are some cases of later integration of Flemish features dating from the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries; for example, in Felbrigg Hall, Flemish roundels of about 1550 were acquired by William Howe Windham in the mid-nineteenth century, and set in Victorian Gothic surrounds in the hall (Maddison 1995, 44–45).

5

Victoria and Albert Museum, London, no. 125-1890.

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Socio-cultural emulation Competition between builders or patrons is likely to have motivated borrowings, thereby explaining the relative unity observed in the types of buildings and decorative features developed in East Anglian manor houses (contributing to form a shared cultural and social identity). For example, the principal carpenter on Little Saxham Hall, in Little Saxham, Suffolk, was sent in 1505 to see the recently begun roof of Horham Hall, in Thaxted, Essex and the house of the rich merchant Angel Donne, in Tower Street in London. His glazier went back to Horham Hall in 1509 in order to obtain a model for the chapel windows (Airs 1995, 54). Another example is the staircase of Hemingstone Hall, in Hemingstone, Suffolk (built in 1621), decorated with geometrical designs which were reproduced in Baylham Hall, in Baylham (built in 1630), located only few miles away from Hemingstone Hall (Kenworthy-Browne 1981, 215–241). This emulation must have affected many buildings, as well as their interior decoration. The influence of court culture also probably played a role in the process of emulation. Their ways of living, education, social, political and economic status and cultural references were different from those of the gentry, thus inducing other types of architectural layouts and structures. Nevertheless, the influence of continental prints, conveying images from the Renaissance, seems to have been common to both social groups, as well as to religious, public, and urban structures (Wells-Cole 1997, 23– 167). The research conducted by Andrea Kirkham shows the importance of the urban context as an environment where emulation and patterns of patronage played key roles (Kirkham 2010, 125–149). The study has shown the existence of a certain unity in the types of manor houses and their decoration as they developed in East Anglia in the Early Modern period. These manor houses retained specific elements of Tudor culture, such as their plans and inner layouts, chimney-stacks and polygonal buttresses which were not seen anywhere else in Europe. Nevertheless, they also incorporated specific features associated with the Renaissance, such as the shaped gables, the pedimented windows, and other classical features which had already made their appearance in Italy. But it was their Flemish interpretation that most strongly affected the English buildings. Likewise, the interior decoration and furnishings of East Anglian manor houses show a deep-rooted connection with continental prints, and specifically with those of Flanders. The question raised in the introduction concerning the reasons behind such absorption of a foreign culture has yet to be answered. The first

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possible answer is the link with an urban mercantile Flemish culture, which can be explained by the presence of many merchants (Flemish, but also English) in the port cities of East Anglia. They acted as leaders of taste, introducing features, which were then transposed to country manor houses. The flourishing cultural centres of Antwerp and London also played an important role in the diffusion of these elements. Furthermore, court culture, too, was influential, since the material culture and architecture of Burgundian elites were copied as a form of conspicuous consumption (Cooper 2002). The political and religious context must also be taken into account since changes in iconographical programmes following the dissolution of the monasteries probably played a role in the diffusion of antique designs in interior as well as exterior decoration of English buildings. Once these specific features started to be used in manor houses, social and cultural emulation played an important role in the diffusion of a specific style, thereafter becoming a regional tradition, which had absorbed foreign features to such an extent that they became naturalized. By contrast, a possible explanation for the relatively traditional design of Flemish manor houses may be found in the agitated political context of the Low Countries. The wish to assert continuity with the local interpretation of the manor house (which may explain the lack of ornament) formed a specific cultural identity; just as the East Anglian manor houses represented another cultural group with its own identity. The introduction of classical features, shaped gables and interior decoration influenced by continental prints and dependant on a vision of antiquity acquired through Northern culture, refashioned the cultural identity of the English gentry and most specifically in East Anglia. In this sense, the adoption of a different cultural model from that of the classic centrifugal view of the Italian Renaissance, one which allows for multiple cultural centres, is essential.

Bibliography Airs, Malcolm. 1995. The Tudor and Jacobean Country House: a Building History. Stroud: Alan Sutton. Bales, P. G. 1957. “A Note on Manors in Madingley.” Proceedings of the Cambridge Antiquarian Society 51: 79–80. Barron, Caroline and Nigel Saul, eds. 1995. England and the Low Countries in the late Middle Age. Stroud: Sutton. Belozerskaya, Marina. 2002. Rethinking the Renaissance: Burgundian Art across Europe. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Brown, Charles. 1996. “Artistic Relations between Britain and the Low Countries (1532–1632).” In The North Sea and Culture (1550–1800), edited by Juliette Roding and Lex Heerma, 340–354. Hilversum: Verloren. Butler, Percy Milton. 1980. An Illustrated Guide to Christchurch Mansion. Ipswich: Borough Council. Chinnery, Victor. 1986. Oak Furniture; The British Tradition. A History of Early Furniture in the British Isles and New England. Woodbridge: Antique Collectors. Cooper, Nicholas. 1999. Houses of the Gentry, 1480–1680. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. —. 2002. “Rank, Manners and Display: the Gentlemanly House, 1500– 1750.” Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 12: 291–310. Corfield, Penelope J. 2000. “East Anglia.” In The Cambridge Urban History of Britain, vol. 2, edited by Peter Clark, 31–48. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Cudworth, Cyril L. 1939. “The Dutch Gables of East Anglia.” The Architectural Review 35: 113–118. Curteis, Tobit. 2002. Technical Survey and Proposals for the Conservation of the Wall Paintings in K4. Cambridge: Tobit Curteis Associates. Cust, Lionel. 1903. “Foreign Artists of the Reformed Religion Working in London from about 1560 to 1660.” Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of London 3: 45–82. De Jonge, Krista. 1998. “Vitruvius, Alberti and Serlio: Architectural Treatises in the Low Countries, 1530–1620.” In Paper Palaces. The Rise of the Renaissance Architectural Treatise, edited by Vaughan Hart and Peter Hicks, 281–296. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. —. 2003. “Up die manier van Brabant. Brabant en de adelsarchitectuur van de Lage Landen (1450–1530).” Bijdragen tot de Geschiedenis 86: 409–423. —. 2007. “Antiquity Assimilated: Court Architecture 1530–60.” In Unity and Discontinuity. Architectural Relationships between the Southern and Northern Low Countries (1530–1700), edited by Krista De Jonge and Konrad Ottenheym, 55–78. Turnhout: Brépols. Esdaile, Katherine A. 1943. “The Interaction of English and Low Country Sculpture in the Seventeenth Century.” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 6: 80–88.

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Esser, Raingard. 2005. “Immigrant Cultures in Tudor and Stuart England.” In Immigrants in Tudor and Early Stuart England, edited by Lien B. Luu and Nigel Goose, 125–147. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press. Foister, Susan. 1981. “Paintings and other Works of Art in sixteenth century English Inventories.” The Burlington Magazine 113: 273–282. Foreman, Susan. 1995. From Palace to Power, an Illustrated History of Whitehall. Brighton: Alpha Press. Forman, Benno M. 1971. “Continental Furniture Craftsmen in London: 1511–1625.” Furniture History 7: 94–111. Gent, Lucy. 1981. Picture and Poetry 1560–1620. Relations between Literature and the Visual Arts in the English Renaissance. Leamington Spa: J. Hall. Girling, F. A. 1936. “Suffolk Chimneys of the Sixteenth Century.” Proceedings of the Suffolk Institute of Archaeology and Natural History 22: 104–107. Girouard, Mark. 1959. “Some Alien Craftsmen in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century England.” Proceedings of the Huguenot Society of London 20: 26–35. Goose, Nigel, and Lien B. Luu, eds. 2005. Immigrants in Tudor and Early Stuart England. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press. Gwynn, Robin. 1985. Huguenot heritage. The history and contribution of the Huguenots in Britain. Brighton: Sussex Academic Press. Hagger, Nicholas. 2001. Otley Hall. Guide Book. Otley: Otley Hall. Hamling, Tara. 2007. “To See or not to See? The Presence of Religious Imagery in the Protestant Household.” Art History 30/2: 170–197 Hefford, Wendy. 2002. “Flemish tapestry weavers in England: 1550– 1775.” In Flemish Tapestry Weavers abroad. Emigration and the Founding of Manufactories in Europe, edited by Guy Delmarcel, 43– 61. Leuven: Leuven University Press. Howard, Maurice. 1987. The Early Tudor Country House. Architecture and Politics, 1490–1550. London: George Philip & Son. Jervis, Simon. 1974. Printed Furniture Designs before 1650. Leeds: W.S. Maney and Son Ltd. Jones, Malcolm. 2002. “Engraved Works Recorded in the Stationers’ Registers, 1562–1656: a Listing and Commentary.” Walpole Society 64:1–63. Kenworthy-Browne, John, ed. 1981. Burke’s and Savills Guide to Country Houses. London: Burke’s Peerage LTD. Ketton-Cremer, Robert W. 1962. Felbrigg: the Story of a House. London: Hart Davis.

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Kipling, Gordon. 1977. The Triumph of Honour: Burgundian Origins of the Elizabethan Renaissance. The Hague: Leiden University Press. Kirkham, Andrea. 2010. “Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century Secular Wall Paintings in Suffolk.” PhD diss., University of East Anglia. Kreisel, Heinrich. 1968. Die Kunst des deutschen Möbels. München: Beck. Lloyd, Nathaniel. 1983. A History of English Brickwork, with Examples and Notes of the Architectural Use and Manipulation of Brick from Medieval Times to the End of the Georgian Period. Woodbridge: Antique Collectors’ Club. Luu, Lien B. 2005. Immigrants and the Industries of London, 1500–1700. Aldershot: Ashgate. Maddison, John. 1995. Felbrigg Hall, Norfolk. London: National Trust. Mathieu, Clémence. 2012. “The Gentry Settlement in the County of Hainault 1400–1789). Architecture, Behaviors, Ways of Life.” PhD diss., Free University of Brussels. Mathieu, Clémence. 2013. “Culture of Exchange: the Architecture of the Low Countries and South-East England. 1485–1630.” Post-doctorate Research Report, University of Cambridge. Moore, Andrew W. 1988. Dutch and Flemish Painting in Norfolk. A History of Taste and Influence, Fashion and Collecting. London: HMSO/Norfolk Museum Service. Murray, John J. 1957. “The Cultural Impact of the Flemish Low Countries on Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century England.” The American Historical Review 67/4: 837–854. Pettegree, Andrew. 1986. Foreign Protestant Communities in SixteenCentury London. Oxford: Historical Monographs. Pevsner, Nicholas. 1961. The Buildings of England. Suffolk. Harmondsworth: Penguin. —. 1997. The Buildings of England. Norfolk, 1, Norwich and the NorthEast. London: Penguin. Quiney, Anthony. 1990. The Traditional Buildings of England. London: Thames and Hudson. Sandeen, Ernest R. 1964. “The Building of Redgrave Hall, 1545–1554.” Proceedings of the Suffolk Institute of Archaeology 29: 1–31. Smiles, Samuel. 1867. The Huguenots. Their settlements, churches and industries in England and Ireland. London: Am. ed. Sperling, Evelyne. 1994. “The wooden, inlaid chimney-piece in Cambridge of 1594.” Study Report, University of Cambridge. Strong, Roy. 1984. The Renaissance Garden in England. London: Thames and Hudson.

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Thornton, Peter. 1998. Form and Decoration: Innovation in the Decorative Arts, 1470–1870. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson. Turner, Laurence. 1927. Decorative Plasterwork in Great Britain. London: Country Life Limited. Vandenbroeck, Paul. 1990. “De salette of pronkkamer in het 17de-eeuwse Brabantse burgerhuis. Familie—en groepsportretten als iconografische bron, omstreeks 1640–80.” Monumenten en Landschappen 9/6: 41–62. Veldman, Ilja M. 2006. Images for the Eye and Soul: Function and Meaning in Netherlandish Prints (1450–1650). Leiden: Primavera Pers. Watkin, David. 1969. “Childerley Hall, Cambridge.” Country Life 6: 1170–1173. Wells-Cole, Anthony. 1997. Art and Decoration in Elizabethan and Jacobean England. The Influence of Continental Prints, 1558–1625. London and New Haven: Yale University Press. White, Adam. 2004. “Cure Family.” In Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: from the Earliest Times to the Year 2000, vol. 14, edited by Henry C. G Matthew and Brian H. Harrison, 710–711. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Yungblut, Laura Hunt. 1996. Strangers Settled here amongst us. Policies, Perceptions and the Presence of Aliens in Elizabethan England. London: Routledge.

CHAPTER SEVEN RE-EVALUATING THE “OUTSIDER”: FORD MADOX BROWN AND CULTURAL DIALOGUES IN MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY EUROPE LAURA MACCULLOCH

Ford Madox Brown (1821–1893) was one of the Pre-Raphaelite artists who challenged the accepted ideas about modern art in England in the mid- nineteenth century. As he spent the majority of his career in England, he is seen as a quintessentially English artist and is most well known for works depicting English life including The Last of England (1852–55, oil on canvas, Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery) and Work (1852–1865, oil on canvas, Manchester City Galleries). This chapter looks at a group of lesser known drawings, held at Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery (BMAG), executed whilst the artist lived, not in England, but in Paris in the early 1840s.1 Previous scholars have not studied this group of early drawings in-depth, perhaps because they are problematic as they do not fit easily into the image of Brown as an “English” artist. However, they highlight one of the least discussed facts about Brown's life and work, namely that he was born in Calais and did not live permanently in England until he was in his mid-twenties. His father had been a ship's purser in the Royal Navy but retired on half pay (Hueffer 1986, 9). In order to maintain the family's middle class standard of living they relocated to the other side of the channel, and as Brown's grandson and biographer, Ford Madox Hueffer, notes they “led a roving life, principally on the Continent, for economy's sake, moving from town to town near Calais, or in the Low Countries” (Hueffer 1986, 10). From 1835 it was the young Ford Madox Brown's art education which 1

These drawings can be seen on BMAG’s online resource (www.preraphaelites.org).

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dictated their place of residence and the family lived in Bruges, Ghent and Antwerp in Belgium so that Brown could attend the country’s leading art academies. Having completed his art training, Brown moved to Paris, then one of the artistic centres of Europe, where he remained until 1844, although he made frequent visits to England to see family. Brown's parents could be described as economic exiles, let down financially by England and unable to remain in the middle classes unless they moved abroad. The word “exile” brings to mind diaspora theories which have traditionally been used to describe the Jewish community and its plight. However, recent scholarship has expanded its usage to analyse the cultural experiences of many communities who have to leave their countries of origin.2 Although not part of a diaspora community per se, Brown's migrant experiences share similarities with those living within one. He and his family were part of a larger minority group of English expatriates, they retained a strong sense of homeland and, like many second-generation immigrants, Brown spoke the language of his parents but also the language of his adopted home. This links Brown's early work to theories and perspectives which have been used to discuss diaspora, migration and the formation of national culture by theorists such as Edward Said (1955) and Homi K. Bhabha (1994). The little-discussed facts about Brown's birthplace and early migrant upbringing in France and Belgium have seen him labelled “an outsider” by other scholars. Kenneth Bendiner asks the rhetorical question “wasn't Brown essentially an uncongenial outsider and misfit?”, offering the explanation that he was “an Englishman trained abroad, a foreign-trained artist” (Bendiner 1998, 36). In his review of Bendiner's work, this label is repeated by Julian Treuherz and, in conversation with the author, the biographer Angela Thirwell maintained that he was an English outsider in France, a French/English outsider in Belgium, and a European outsider in England (Treuherz 1998, 697; MacCulloch 2010, 23). This negative label 2

For an excellent overview of global diaspora theories see Robin Cohen, Global Diaspora: An Introduction (London, UCL Press, 1997) and Thomas Turino’s Introduction to Identity and the Arts in Diaspora Communities (Thomas Turino and James Lea Warren (Michigan: Harmonie Park Press, 2004). The exhibition catalogue, Past Modern: Paintings by the Singh Twins (New Delhi: National Gallery of Modern Art, 2002) describes the sisters as artists working within the “Indian diaspora” a community not usually described as diaspora but who, like Brown's parents, had to leave their country of origin for economic reasons. Most studies of diaspora communities look at twentieth-century cases. Although Brown was born in the nineteenth century some of his experiences as the son of English parents raised abroad are the same as those in diaspora communities in the twentieth century.

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reduces Brown to the binary position of the “other.” Homi K. Bhabha’s discussion of minorities, notably migrants, in The Location of the Culture (1994) allows a new perspective. In examining the idea of the modern nation Bhabha states that: The problem is not simply the “selfhood” of the nation as opposed to the otherness of other nations. We are confronted with the nation split within itself, articulating the heterogeneity of its population. The … Nation … becomes a liminal space that is internally marked by the discourses of minorities, the heterogeneous histories of contending peoples, antagonistic authorities and tense locations of cultural difference (Bhabha 1994, 148).

For Bhabha a nation's culture is shaped from within by those, like Brown, on the margins, the minority communities, the migrants. It continually changes because of the participation of these minorities. Although Bhabha does not look specifically at culture in terms of art his viewpoint is particularly apposite in the study of an artist, an individual engaged in actively constructing culture. It also relocates the individual within the wider cross-currents of culture exchange. By examining both the subject matter and style of the drawings made by Brown in Paris, this chapter explores the artistic influences acting upon him as an individual artist, but also highlights his position in the wider cultural exchanges taking place in Europe in the 1830s and 1840s. In particular, it will discuss the cultural exchanges between France and England, the two countries in which he exhibited his work in the 1840s. It is important to note that Brown received his artistic training in Belgium, but it is also necessary to recognise that while Brown was a student in the 1830s, the Belgian art establishment remained under the sway of French artistic trends, although it had become an independent country following the 1830 revolution. Brown's first two academy tutors had been students of Jacques-Louis David, and his last tutor, Baron Gustave Wappers, was seen as the leader of the Romantic painting movement in Belgium, which took its lead from French artists, particularly Delacroix, rather than traditional Flemish painting.3 From the 1820s, English literature and history began to appeal to artists exhibiting in France and Belgium. Just as Brown was receiving his artistic training, these English subjects reached a new height 3

In 1872, William Bell Scott published the second of a series of books on continental art. In the introduction, he wrote “Last year the subject of a volume to which this may be called a successor, was the living school of France. This year we have selected the Art of Belgium and Holland, so intimately related for a period of years to that of the larger country, having only lately, indeed, asserted independence” (Scott 1872, 9).

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of popularity in the Salons, the official representatives of “French” Art.4 Romanticism had started later in France than in England and it was English literature, in particular, which hastened the advancement of the movement in French artistic circles. The publication of Stendhal's Racine and Shakespeare in 1823 began a reappraisal of Shakespeare, who had previously been spurned by French critics, and English literature in general. Artists working in France were also drawn to the dramatic works of Lord Byron, the epitome of the Romantic hero, and the novels of Sir Walter Scott, who provided readers and artists alike with a new, more empathetic and emotional view of history. In England itself, the same subjects were popular among artists exhibiting at the Royal Academy (RA). As this chapter will show, the subjects chosen by Brown whilst working in Paris, and his approach to them, were inspired by the “Romantic currents” moving over England, France and Belgium in the 1840s and the preceding decade.5 Brown, having been brought up in France and Belgium by English-born parents, was uniquely poised to respond to the new vogue for subjects from English literature. When Brown moved to Paris he utilised his mixed cultural experiences to take advantage of this trend thus allowing him to try and break into the art market in two countries.

Shakespeare and romanticism The first group of drawings consists of four sheets, in pen and ink, from a series of nineteen drawings illustrating the Shakespeare play King Lear. The majority of these drawings are now at the Whitworth Art Gallery, Manchester, and BMAG holds four works on paper relating to the series. The drawings are dated 1844, and were produced in Paris. The first is a study for Lear questioning Cordelia. The second sheet of drawings 4

This chapter uses the exhibition catalogues of the Salons held between 1838 and 1845, the years when Brown studied under Baron Gustave Wappers and then moved to Paris, to assess the popularity of subjects taken from English literature among artists exhibiting in France. Likewise it uses the catalogues of the Royal Academy exhibition from the same period to show the respective popularity of subjects from English Literature among artists exhibiting in England. Brown did not live in England in this period but travelled to the country to visit family. 5 Helen O. Borowitz notes that “Brown's … sketches for King Lear were inspired by many Romantic currents in France and England of the forties”, but does not look into whether any of his other works from the early 1840s were influenced by the Romantic movement (Borowitz 1978, 314).

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was divided in two by Brown. In the top half he made a pencil and ink sketch of the scene in which Lear imagines himself at his unfaithful Daughter's Trial. In the bottom half is a study for Lear in the Storm. The third sheet depicts Kent accusing Oswald on one side, and a study for Lear recounts his Wrongs to Regan on the other. The last drawing is of Cordelia at Lear's Bedside (Fig.7-1).

Fig.7-1 Ford Madox Brown, King Lear—Sketch for Cordelia at Lear’s Bedside (Lear's Awakening), 1844, brown ink over pencil on laid paper, 15.2 x 23.2 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, 1907P757. © Birmingham Museums Trust.

Taken as a whole series, Brown's drawings focus on the key moments of the play, omitting the death of Lear and Cordelia. Brown based his scenes on the newly reinstated original version of King Lear. In 1681 Nahum Tate had drastically altered it and in this new version there was no tragedy as Tate created a happy ending where Lear and Cordelia did not die (Shakespeare 1860, 138). Tate's version quickly replaced Shakespeare's original plot and it was not until 1838 that Charles Macready put on the original version for the first time in over a hundred and fifty years. Since the late eighteenth century Shakespeare’s plays had become one of the most popular sources of subjects for artists in England. Between 1838 and 1845 alone there were fifty-nine paintings depicting scenes from Shakespeare on display in the RA summer exhibitions. The most popular

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plays were (in descending order): The Tempest, The Merchant of Venice, Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Twelfth Night, Hamlet, Othello, Midsummer Night's Dream, The Merry Wives of Windsor, and King Lear (all of these plays were depicted at least three times). There were several reasons for the increased interest in Shakespeare in Britain. The art market was widening and needed to include subjects which would appeal “to the new class of patrons who would be more familiar with the texts of Shakespeare than with the Greek and Latin texts that were the backbone of the classical education of the landowning elite” (Myrone 2006, 74). Shakespeare’s literary merits were being positively reevaluated and privately sponsored galleries, notably John Boydell’s Shakespeare Gallery, created greater incentives for British artists to use his plays as subject matter. By the early nineteenth century this interest had spread to France. As mentioned above, in 1823 Stendhal published Racine and Shakespeare, a critical work which helped to change “the attitude of the French from rejection of the unclassical elements of Shakespeare’s plays to enthusiastic acceptance of the bard as a kind of proto-Romantic” (Borowitz 1978, 313). Even before Stendhal’s publication, Eugène Delacroix in particular was attracted to Shakespearian subjects. As early as 1818 he wrote to a friend calling himself “a young college boy, admirer of Shakespeare” (Verdier 1964, 37).6 Delacroix painted his first picture of a Shakespearian subject in 1825, Desdemona and Emilia from Othello.7 After this, he returned to Othello many times as well as painting numerous other pictures based on Romeo and Juliet, Anthony and Cleopatra, Hamlet and Macbeth. Most importantly, in connection with Brown, Delacroix produced thirteen plates illustrating Hamlet, which were published in 1843 in an edition of eighty. Delacroix’s illustrations have minimal backgrounds, and focus on the 6

Letter dated 10 December 1818. Desdemona and Emilia (c. 1825, oil on paper, lost). Desdemona remained the most popular character from Othello in France whereas in England it was Othello himself who was the subject of paintings exhibited at the RA. In 1838 Mlle Lafon exhibited Mort de Desdémona at the Salon (no. 1030, Les Catalogues des Salons, vol. 3, 238) and in 1839 another woman, Mlle Sophie Hubert chose Desdemona in act 4, sc. 3 as the subject for her picture (no 1041, ibid. 298). At the RA in 1839 D. Cowper exhibited Othello relating his Adventures (no. 394, The Exhibition of the Royal Academy, 1839, 21); in 1842 M. Claxton exhibited Othello (no. 423, ibid. 1842, p. 24) and in 1844 A. Rankley exhibited another picture entitled Othello (no. 310, ibid. 1844, 16). There were no paintings exhibited at the RA between 1838 and 1842 which included Desdemona in the title. The popularity of the play, particularly in France, may be connected with Rossini's opera Otello which was first performed in 1821 in Paris. 7

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human drama in the story. Their importance in relation to Brown is highlighted by the fact that they were published in 1843 when Brown was living in Paris, and it seems likely that this set of lithographs gave Brown the idea of creating his own series of illustrations of Shakespeare the following year.8 If not able to see the illustrations himself he must have been aware of them as they were discussed in artistic circles, even across the Channel: in October 1843 The Art Union mused: Were it not sufficiently known that on the Continent the favourite play of our great dramatist was Hamlet, this would be shown by the frequency of its illustration, and the numerous subjects it supplies to foreign artists. M. Eugène Delacroix has just published thirteen lithographic plates illustrative of striking scenes in this play (The Art Union 1843, 273).

Although the focus on the human drama displays the potential influence of Delacroix, the style of the drawings differs greatly from the older artist’s and Brown’s drawings reveal that he was also picking up on artistic currents from Germany and England. Stylistically, Brown's drawings are closer to the outline illustrations produced by the earlier English artist John Flaxman (1755–1826) and the contemporary German artist Friedrich August Moritz Retzsch (1779–1857). Brown may have been inspired to produce this set of drawings by the Art Union of London outline drawing competitions, which took place annually from 1842 until 1846, and demanded a series of ten illustrations of English literature or history (MacCulloch 2010, 31). The competitions were prompted by the popularity of outline drawings, a style which had been popularised in the early nineteenth century by Flaxman's illustrations, but had seen a revival following the huge success of Retzsch's outline illustrations to Shakespeare. These competitions were “an opportunity for young or lesser known artists [like Brown] to make their names” (Warner 1979, 6). The subject, outline style and serial nature of Brown's drawings certainly suggest that he was interested in the Art Union outline competitions. While we cannot be certain that he intended to enter, by this point he was keen to build up his reputation in England and was entering a number of high profile competitions. In 1844, the year he produced the Lear drawings, he entered one of the Houses of Westminster cartoon competitions, started work on an entry for another, and also entered a competition to paint an altarpiece of the Ascension for the church of St James in London (Hueffer 1896, 33,

8

This view of the inspiration Brown found in Delacroix’s lithographs is shared by Borowitz (1978, 313) and Martin Meisel (1988, 601).

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434).9 These projects can be seen as Brown’s attempt to shape British culture from its margins as at this time he was still an ex-patriate living in France and had not yet settled in London. Unlike Flaxman's illustrations, Retzsch's designs shared Brown's Shakespearian subject matter and are therefore more likely to have been a source of inspiration for the King Lear series. Retzsch was a German illustrator and engraver, whose outline illustrations to Shakespeare were hugely popular on the continent and in England, throughout the nineteenth century, but particularly in the 1830s. His admirers included Queen Victoria and Paul Goldman (1994, 98) points out that “as the years went by, Retzsch aimed his work increasingly at the English market”. If we compare Retzsch's engravings of King Lear to Brown’s drawings, strong stylistic similarities emerge. Both use a minimal number of lines with no shading and little background detail, giving simplicity to their compositions. Both use horizontal formats allowing the figures to spread across the composition, and keep the figures at the front of the picture plane, creating an intimacy with the viewer. Like Retzsch, Brown based his series on the newly-restored play made popular by Macready. Both include the reinstated character of the Fool but, unlike Brown, Retzsch highlights the tragic end of the play by depicting the dead bodies of Lear and Cordelia in the last illustration. The two artists did not always choose the same scenes but close comparison of the two series reveals that when they did, Brown often used Retzsch as the basis for his compositions (MacCulloch 2010, 33). Despite these similarities in composition there are substantial differences between the two sets of illustrations. Retzsch's outlines show neo-classical restraint, whereas Brown's freer pen strokes show movement and vigour. Some allowance must be made for the fact that Retzsch's illustrations are engravings which could not be as free or look as fresh as Brown's pen and ink drawings. However, this alone does not account for their differences. In part, it is due to the different historical settings the two artists use for their illustrations. Retzsch locates the play in the Tudor period whereas Brown sets his version in the Celtic era. Macready used the same Celtic setting for his play and was the first actor to play King Lear with a beard. The underlying atmosphere of violence in Brown's drawings may have been inspired by the work of another artist, Henry Fuseli. Like Brown, Fuseli was not raised in England, but spent most of his adult life there. He was born in Switzerland and spent several years in Rome before settling in England, in 1763, where he became highly successful. Fuseli was one of 9

Hueffer's dates are confirmed by those inscribed on the drawings in the collection at BMAG.

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the first artists working in England to give Shakespeare the same artistic respect as older writers. The dark palettes and maniacal expressions found in his paintings create the same undercurrent of violence as Brown's drawings. Brown may well have taken three of Fuseli’s paintings of King Lear as the basis for two of his illustrations for the play. Fuseli’s Lear disinheriting Cordelia (Lear banishing Cordelia) (Weinglass 1994, 140) was engraved in 1796, and the strong similarities between this composition and the drawing Lear questions Cordelia suggest that Brown knew Fuseli's work. Brown’s early study for Lear questions Cordelia, now at BMAG, illustrates the drama moments before the scene depicted by Fuseli. This early drawing incorporates the dramatic and imposing central throne, the glaring figure of Lear, and the figure of Cordelia in a long flowing dress found in Fuseli's picture.10 The study also hints at the same balanced composition which is complete in the more finished drawing at the Whitworth Art Gallery with Lear at the centre surrounded by his true daughter, Cordelia, on one side and the unloving sisters, Goneril and Regan, on the other. In the later drawing, Brown has cropped the composition, heightening the tension but cutting out the grand room found in both the earlier BMAG drawing and Fuseli’s painting. However, he adds the soldiers found at the back of Fuseli’s composition and like Fuseli places Goneril and Regan side by side with their husbands opposite Cordelia. Another of Fuseli’s Lear paintings (now lost) was engraved in 1784 (Ibid. 75–77) and shares similarities with Brown’s depiction of exactly the same scene, Lear awakens to find Cordelia beside his Bed. In these two depictions, Lear lies across the composition, reclining on cushions, rather than upright in a chair as in Retzsch's depiction of the scene. In both he is awake, and father and daughter gaze at each other with strong intensity.11 Although Fuseli’s composition has only two figures the similarities suggest that Brown knew of the engraving of Fuseli’s composition and fused his reclining Lear with Retzsch's tent setting. He may also have seen an engraving of Fuseli's painting Lear supporting the dead Body of his Daughter (Ibid. 265), published in 1804, in which Lear's cloak billows out behind him as in Brown's depiction of Lear in the Storm. Brown's drawings illustrating King Lear show the range of influences acting on him in the mid-1840s. His emulation of artists working in Germany (Retzsch), France (Delacroix), and England (Fuseli), reveal that 10

Bendiner includes the painting of Lear Casting out his Daughter as Fig. 123 in his accompanying illustrations but does not appear to mention it in the text. 11 In Brown's later painting of the same scene Lear is asleep (Lear and Cordelia, 1848-1849, oil on canvas, Tate, London).

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Brown was positioned in the crosscurrents of artistic exchange happening in Europe at the time. That he was influenced by the earlier Romantic artist, Fuseli, and the later Romantic painter, Delacroix, underlines the slower emergence of the Romantic movement in France.

Lord Byron BMAG holds three studies for Brown’s picture Parisina's Sleep (1842, Fig.7-2), and as the painting is now lost these provide the best idea of what the work would have looked like. Throughout his career, Brown used Byron’s poems as subjects for his paintings. His preoccupation with Byronic subjects began in the period 1839–44. Brown's first exhibited work was the Giaour's Confession taken from Byron's poem The Giaour (1813) and accepted at the RA in 1841 (cat. no. 439, now lost). His choice of subject placed him at the centre of cultural dialogues taking place between France, Belgium and England. The poem had been made particularly famous in France by Delacroix, who used it as a subject for numerous compositions. He first painted a scene from The Giaour in 1826 (Combat between The Giaour and the Pasha, oil on canvas, The Art Institute, Chicago), and in his career he executed at least seven other pictures based on the poem. Its popularity with artists continued, and between 1838 and 1841 it was the subject of three paintings exhibited at the Salon: Le Giaour by Malécy (1838), Le Giaour by Le comte de Jaubert (1841) and Le Giaour by Jules Quatin (1841). Brown's last tutor in Belgium, Baron Gustave Wappers, “drew on Byron for at least half a dozen pictures, including two versions of The Giaour”, which may well have been the immediate inspiration for the younger artist's choice of subject (Newman and Watkinson 1991, 13). It was also a relatively popular subject in England and Brown exhibited Giaour's Confession at the RA in 1841. Its popularity is highlighted by the fact that between 1839 and 1842 two other artists also exhibited works depicting scenes from The Giaour at the RA. In 1839 Mrs Battersby exhibited Leila from Lord Byron's Giaour and in 1842 C. A. Du Val showed his work The Giaour. The poet was the source of inspiration for many of Delacroix's most famous works, including The Death of Sardanapalus (exh. at Salon 1827– 28, oil on canvas, Musée du Louvre). Although Delacroix began producing works based on Byron as early as the 1820s, he continued to use him as subject matter for paintings in the 1840s, notably The Shipwreck of Don Juan (1840, exh. Salon 1841, oil on canvas, Musée du Louvre) and The Bride of Abydos (1849, oil on canvas, King's College Cambridge). Brown’s early interest in Byron was unabated, and his continued use of the

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poet’s work over his career matched Delacroix’s enthusiasm for Byron. In 1842, he produced two paintings based on Byron’s poem Manfred (1816– 17). In 1843 he also painted The Prisoner of Chillon, and much later in his career he contributed six illustrations to The poetical Works of Lord Byron (1870), edited by William Michael Rossetti, and worked up many of these into watercolours or oil paintings (MacCulloch 2010, 179–180).12 Although the drawings for Parisina are figure studies, rather than compositional, they reveal enough to show that Brown chose to depict the most dramatic moment from the poem when Prince Azo discovers that his wife Parisina has been having an affair with his illegitimate son Hugo. It is this moment which ultimately leads to their public execution. The first study depicts the two protagonists, Prince Azo and Parisina. Prince Azo is shown leaning over his slumbering wife, Parisina, who has just revealed her infidelity by murmuring Hugo's name in her sleep. Enraged, he contemplates killing Parisina whilst she sleeps. The second is a focused study of Azo's expression (Fig.7-2). It captures his intense, murderous look of rage depicting him with a mouth almost spitting with anger, wild eyes and a deeply furrowed brow. This drawing suggests Brown’s interest in Fuseli, particularly extreme expressions as found in Fuseli’s drawing The Death of Cardinal Beaufort of 1772 (pen and ink with wash, Walker Art Gallery, Liverpool). Touches of white chalk add the light of the “gleaming lamp” and suggest that Brown's composition included the strong contrast of light and dark required by his chosen scene. This intense nocturnal observation of Azo's expression further highlights Brown's interest in works by Fuseli. The former artist excelled in producing dramatic night-time compositions which required the use of chiaroscuro and extreme facial gestures, notably Lady Macbeth sleepwalking (Shakespeare, Macbeth, V, i) in which Lady Macbeth's wild, guilty expression is lit up in the gloom by the candle she carries. In these studies for Parisina we see a fusion of Romantic influences, the extreme expressions of Fuseli, and the dramatic sentiment and sensuality of Delacroix. The choice of subject allowed Brown to indulge in the Romantic taste for an untimely death and a violent show of emotions. According to the entry accompanying the painting in Brown's 1865 solo exhibition catalogue, his interest in light was due to his study of “Spanish pictures and … [paintings by] Rembrandt” (Brown 1865, 17) which, according to his grandson Ford Madox Hueffer, he visited at the Louvre (Hueffer 1896, 29).

12

The other two illustrations were produced by his son Oliver.

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Fig.7-2 Ford Madox Brown, Parisina's Sleep—Study for Head of Prince Azo, 1842, black chalk, with ink wash, on grey paper, 43.2 x 31 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, 1906P716. © Birmingham Museums Trust.

There were a large number of works by Rembrandt in the Louvre at this time, and one portrait by Velázquez (MacCulloch 2010, 58–59). However, there seems to be little evidence of this interest in these

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preparatory studies. Even the touches of white chalk adding a sense of lighting in the focused study for Parisina’s head, suggest a much more theatrical lighting in keeping with the macabre works of Fuseli than the naturalistic paintings of Rembrandt. In the case of this painting Brown was unsuccessful in shaping in French culture through exhibiting at the Salon. Ford Madox Hueffer (later known as Ford Madox Ford) records that the painting was “rejected at the exhibition of the French Salon in 1843” with “a polite accompanying note stating that the subject was too improper for the walls of the French gallery under Louis Philippe” (Hueffer 1896, 30). However, the previous year Thomas Jones Barker, another English artist exhibiting in France and England, had a painting entitled Parisina accepted by the Salon. It seems as if it was not the subject matter of which the judges disapproved but the moment Brown chose to depict when the husband discovers his wife's infidelity. Although the whereabouts of Barker's painting are now unknown, it is possible to gain some idea of what it looked like from lines he chose to illustrate in which the two adulterers are lost in each other, oblivious to the danger of their love. By choosing these lines, Barker focuses on the intensity of their love, picking up the broader theme of illicit lovers but also highlighting Byron's homage to Dante's Paolo and Francesca. Brown's painting, however, which focuses on Azo's rage, aligns the work with broader themes of violence and murder, perhaps less palatable in France than romance. Despite being rejected from the 1843 Salon, it was shown two years later at the British Institution in London. The depiction of the light in Brown's scene from Parisina brings to mind Othello's murder of Desdemona during which he mutters “Put out the light and then put out the light” (Shakespeare, Othello, 177). This may account for its success in England, where paintings of Othello were popular, and perhaps highlights subtle differences in French and British artistic tastes on which Brown was less able to play to than the more experienced Barker.13

Conclusion These early drawings held at BMAG have not been the subject of any previous in-depth scholarly research. As many of the paintings to which these drawings relate are now lost, examining them has allowed insights into the earliest years of Brown's career. Looking at the stylistic and 13

In 1838 F. Newenham exhibited Parisina at the RA (cat. no. 995). The catalogue entry includes a quotation which indicates that like Barker he focused on the lovers, avoiding the more unpalatable subject of Azo's jealousy.

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thematic similarities of these drawings confirms that Brown was positioned within the crosscurrents of cultural exchange, predominantly between England and France, in the 1840s. Analysis of these drawings also highlights the fluidity of the cultural boundaries in Europe in the nineteenth century. It can too easily be assumed that each country had its own specific and unique artistic taste but as Brown's drawings and the success of artists such as Retzsch and Delacroix reveal, artists overrode national boundaries. Brown’s cross-cultural upbringing allowed him to take advantage of this fluidity, best exemplified by the popularity of subjects taken from English literature on both sides of the Channel, and attempt to break into the art scenes in both England and France. This is particularly noticeable in his choice of subjects: had he wanted to establish himself in France, it is more likely that he would have turned to painting religious subjects or battle scenes which dominated the Salons, but were not as popular with artists and patrons in England. As discussed above, other scholars have regarded Brown as an “outsider” but, in fact, his migrant and cross-cultural upbringing afforded him the opportunity to try and establish himself as an artist in two countries. His success can be measured by the fact that the RA, the British Institution, and the Paris Salons accepted his works. Rather than restricting Brown's activities to that of an “outsider”, looking at Brown's early works in the light of ideas discussed by Bhabha in The Location of Culture suggests that it was by working on the margins of two countries and exhibiting his works in both that Brown contributed to, and helped shape, the cultures of England and France.

Bibliography The Art Union. vol. 5, 55 (1 October 1843): 273 Bendiner, Kenneth. 1998. The Art of Ford Madox Brown. University Park, Pa.: Pennsylvania State University Press. Bhabha, Homi K. 1994. The Location of Culture. London: Routledge. Borrowitz, Helen O. 1978. “King Lear in the Art of Ford Madox Brown.” Victorian Studies, vol. 21, 3: 309–334. Brown, Ford Madox. 1865. The Exhibition of Work, and other Paintings. London: M'Corquodale & Co. Goldman, Paul. 1994. Victorian Illustrated Books 1850–1870. London: British Museum Press. Hueffer, Ford Madox. 1896. Ford Madox Brown: A Record of his Life and Works. London: Longmans Green and Co.

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Johnson, Lee. 1981–89. The Paintings of Eugène Delacroix: A critical Catalogue. 6 vols. Oxford: Clarendon Press. MacCulloch, Laura. 2010. “Ford Madox Brown: Works on Paper and Archive Material at Birmingham Museums and Art Gallery.” PhD thesis, University of Birmingham. Martin, Meisel. 1988. “Pictorial Engagements: Byron, Delacroix, Ford Madox Brown.” Studies in Romanticism 27, 4: 579–603. Myrone, Martin. 2006. Gothic Nightmares: Fuseli, Blake and the Romantic Imagination. London: Tate. Newman, Teresa and Raymond Watkinson. 1991. Ford Madox Brown and the Pre-Raphaelite Circle. London: Chatto and Windus. Said, Edward. 1995 [1977]. Orientalism. London: Penguin. Scott, William Bell. 1872. Gems of modern Belgian Art. London: George Routledge & Sons. Shakespeare, William. 1860. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare revised from the original Editions by J. O. Halliwell: Tragedies. vol. 1., London: John Tallis and Co. —. 1994. Othello. Edited by Maurice Roy Ridley. London and New York: Methuen. Treuherz, Julian. 1998. “Review of ‘The Art of Ford Madox Brown by Kenneth Bendiner’.” The Burlington Magazine 140, 1147: 697. Vaughan, William. 1979. German Romanticism and English Art. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Verdier, Philippe. 1964. “Delacroix and Shakespeare.” Yale French Studies 33: 37–45. Warner, Malcolm. 1979. “Millais as a Draughtsman.” in The Drawings of John Everett Millais, exh. cat., Bolton Museum and Art Gallery. London: Arts Council of Great Britain. Weinglass, D. H. 1994. Prints and engraved Illustrations by and after Henry Fuseli: A Catalogue Raisonné. Aldershot: Scolar Press and Brookfield.

THE EMPIRE AND THE NEW AMERICAS

CHAPTER EIGHT THE REAL, REJECTED AND VIRTUAL TRAVELS OF MARTEN DE VOS STEPHANIE PORRAS

This essay presents a preliminary study of the Flemish artist Maerten de Vos, who travelled to new places and who conducted a more lasting negotiation of multiple cultural identities. It considers three moments of travel within De Vos's life—one real journey, one rejected flight and one more virtual migration—which not only define the artist’s career but indicate Antwerp’s multi-faceted role as a place of artistic exchange throughout the troubled period of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. De Vos’s triptych for the altar of the St. Luke’s guild at the Cathedral of our Lady at Antwerp, executed in 1602, just a year before his death, is evidence of his fellow painters’ high esteem (Fig.8-1). It replaced an earlier painting by Quentin Massys that had been seriously damaged in the Iconoclasm of 1566, when rioters destroyed many of the altarpieces in Antwerp’s churches (Peeters 2005, 243–244). De Vos shows Saint Luke, the patron saint of painters, at work in a magnificent studio, referencing antique architecture as well as including recognizably Antwerpian details. While a miraculous cloud of putti makes the supernatural aspect of the image’s production immediately apparent, De Vos also includes at left a portrait of the current factotum of the Antwerp guild, Abraham Grapheus, shown at work grinding pigments. At right, a globe and open book gesture towards St. Luke’s role as evangelist, but would also have reminded Antwerp’s painters of their city’s pre-eminence as a leading centre of global cartographic knowledge and of printing: mapmakers and print publishers, as well as painters, were part of Antwerp’s St. Luke’s Guild. The genesis, iconography and style of De Vos’s St. Luke painting the Virgin, the result of a complex interchange of artistic influences, local politics and religious strife, can be understood as characterising the artist’s complicated life. In 1532, De Vos was born into a city of roughly one

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hundred thousand inhabitants, a global hub of trade and artistic production that would be at the frontline of Reformation religious conflict and political upheaval from the 1560s to 1580s. In De Vos’s lifetime, Antwerp witnessed iconoclasm, war, siege, defeat, and triumphant CounterReformation spectacles.

Fig.8-1 Maerten de Vos, St. Luke painting the Virgin, 1602. Oil on panel, 270 x 217 cm, Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp. © Lukas—Art in Flanders VZW, photo Hugo Maertens.

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The real journey In the early 1550s, De Vos finished his training, probably with his father Paul who was also a painter. He then set out for Italy on a prolonged visit that likely lasted several years (Zweite 1980, 22–26; van Mander 1994, 1: fol. 265r). We do not know if he had a fixed destination or if he knew how long he would be away from home, or indeed if he moved between several cities or countries while living and working abroad. He was part of at least the third generation of Netherlandish painters to make such a journey independently, and to return to the Low Countries at the end of their travels. The earliest Netherlandish painters to travel southwards had done so while in the service of a patron, such as Rogier van der Weyden’s 1450 Roman pilgrimage (de Vos 1999, 60–61) or Jan Gossaert’s 1508 travels with Philip of Burgundy (Ainsworth 2014, 11). Jan van Scorel too travelled in Italy in the 1510s, and by the 1530s, the practice became more widespread as Maarten van Heemskerck (Veldman 1977, 32), Lambert Lombard (Denhaene 2006, 32) and Michel Cocxie (Joonckheere 2014) all lived and worked in Italy for several years before returning home to the Low Countries. In the 1540s, Frans Floris (van de Velde 1975, 1: 50, 92) and Anthonis Mor (Woodall 2007, 95–134) had also gone to Italy. Just slightly older than himself, these artists would have been the most direct models for De Vos’s own decision to leave Antwerp. According to Karel van Mander’s 1604 biography of De Vos, the artist travelled in “Italy, Rome, Venice and other lands” before returning to Antwerp and officially entering the guild in 1558 (van Mander 1994, 1: fol. 265r). Although Carlo Ridolfi included De Vos as one of Tintoretto’s studio assistants in his 1648 biography of Venetian painters, little is known about De Vos’s time in Italy, or the motivations for his journey (Ridolfi 1648, 2:75). It may be that De Vos’s journey south stemmed from his pedagogical lineage. Although he was formally trained in his father’s workshop, De Vos would have been familiar with the studio practice of Frans Floris, one of the most successful artists in Antwerp at mid century. Floris had travelled to Rome in the early 1540s, following the advice and footsteps of his own teacher Lambert Lombard of Liège. Those Netherlandish artists who travelled there in the 1540s and 1550s, were often connected by training to artists who travelled to Italy in the 1530s, such as Lombard, van Scorel and Pieter Coecke van Aelst (Cleland 2014, 12)—and who went even further afield, possibly even to Constantinople. Two letters, written in 1561 and 1565 by Scipio Fabius to the Antwerp geographer Abraham Ortelius, suggest that De Vos travelled or at least spent time with Pieter

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Bruegel while in Italy (Hessels 1888, letter numbers 11 and 15). Bruegel, according to van Mander’s biography, was trained in Coecke van Aelst’s studio. Netherlandish painters who had travelled to Italy may have encouraged their students to travel together. De Vos then was part of a well-established tradition of Netherlandish artists independently traveling to Italy, even though not yet in the service of a patron. It is possible he may have conceived of such a southern journey as a pilgrimage to antiquity, a learning expedition. This is certainly the way Maarten van Heemskerck remembered his own journey in a famous painting now in the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge; the panel however was produced some twenty years after Heemskerck’s actual trip to Rome and may not reflect the totality of the younger artist’s earlier motivations. Indeed in 1551, just before De Vos himself left Antwerp for Italy, the painter Jan van Hemessen appeared before the city magistrates to apply for a travel pass for his sons to travel to Italy, so that they could: “learn and hear and see” (SAA inv.–nr. Cert. 7, Certificatieboek 1552, fol. 230, as quoted in Büttner 2000, 209, note 15).1 Yet the example of van Hemessen’s testimony is relatively rare; the notion of an artist taking an academic trip to Rome was a relatively new idea, and one that obscures the market forces that enabled such travels. Few artists had the capital to travel and simply “study”—they had to work as they went. De Vos and Bruegel, for example, probably exploited the international connections of Antwerp merchants and traders in post stops along the way, where they could work or sell works. In Lyon, for example, there was a sizeable Netherlandish merchant community and the city was a stopping point on merchant trains south: a view of Lyon by Bruegel is documented in the collection of the Roman artist Giulio Clovio (Bertolotti 1881–82, 267), supporting the notion that travelling Netherlandish artists may have made intermediate stops along established trade routes, working in a variety of cities rather than focusing on a single destination. The fact both De Vos and Bruegel, though painting in vastly different stylistic idioms, travelled in Italy around mid-century, indicates that the practice was somewhat well established amongst well-off Antwerp artists of their generation. They may have done so in emulation of those successful artists—Heemskerck, Floris—who had gone to Italy in the first half of the century. These artists could have provided crucial letters of introduction for the young journeymen. On a practical level, travel could have been enabled by Antwerpers’ relative facility in modern languages: since the start of the century, schools in the Low Countries included language instruction as an aide to careers in trade (Boekholt and de Booy 1

Te leerene ende te hooren ende te ziene.

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1987, 17–19). Antwerp craftsmen were also relatively well off by European standards and could subsidize this kind of experience for junior painters. De Vos’s painter father Paul, though not wealthy, did own his own house (Zweite 1980, 20). Travelling independently, without a patron’s support, was an expensive proposition, and it was not a requirement for becoming a master in the Antwerp guild. Travel for Antwerp artists of De Vos’s generation then must be understood as a supplemental pedagogical experience available only to the best connected and financially supported artists. Instead of solely viewing De Vos’s trip to Italy in terms of a search for artistic exemplars, it is more fruitful to conceive of the painter’s time in Italy as being similar to that of other skilled artisans from the Low Countries—such as tapestry workers or noted musicians like Jacques Arcadelt, Orland Lassus, Francois Roussel—who all travelled in search of economic opportunity. These migrants came south because their particular skills, often associated with their Netherlandish or Franco-Flemish origins, were in demand. That is not to say that De Vos was not influenced by monuments of antiquity or Italian art seen while abroad, but it is equally important to stress how his particular skills, possibly as a portraitist and landscape painter, would have been his unique selling point while in Italy (Büttner 2000, 228–229). That is, De Vos probably went to Italy more to market himself to powerful patrons than to search for artistic models. Another Fleming of De Vos’s generation, Jan van der Straet (known by the Latinized version of his name, Stradanus) had left Antwerp for a court career in Italy slightly earlier than De Vos (Baroni 2012, 59–120). Stradanus was working for the Medici court by 1550, yet maintained ties to Antwerp, sending his print designs to Hieronymus Cock and later Philip Galle, to be published in the city. De Vos may have sought a similar position in the approximately six years he was away from the city of his birth. Ridolfi suggests De Vos worked as a landscape painter in Tintoretto’s studio, and certainly De Vos’s later œuvre reveals the influence of Venetian mid-century painting (Limentani Virdis 1977). De Vos’s return to Antwerp coincided with a broader cultural appreciation of Italianate style and antiquity in the city. Around 1550, Hieronymus Cock, who himself may have travelled to Rome, founded Aux Quatre Vents (The Four Winds), a print publishing house with the intellectual pretensions of Antonio Salamanca’s Roman print shop established a decade earlier. Cock began his publishing career producing versions of great Italian paintings, as well as a 1551 etched and engraved series of Roman ruins, tapping into a local market for Italianate scenes and classical subjects, but also taking advantage of Antwerp’s place at the

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heart of a global trading network. The publisher benefitted from powerful patrons like the Habsburg statesman Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle, who supported Cock’s new enterprise and was the dedicatee on many of his early prints (Riggs 1977, 66). Granvelle was a major art collector and patron, commissioning work by artists like Floris, Mor and Giambologna. Granvelle supported the career of those well-travelled artists, and in the case of Mor and Giambologna, underwrote further travels (Banz 2000, 25– 26). It is perhaps no coincidence that the several surviving mid-sixteenth century Netherlandish versions of St. Luke painting the Virgin are by artists who travelled to Rome and who worked for such noble patrons as Granvelle. De Vos’s own version can be understood as part of this tradition, and the elevated status of such well-travelled artists within the local guild hierarchy. When De Vos returned from Italy around 1558, his experience of travel would have enabled the creation of new social bonds for the painter. The city was not only home to hundreds of Italian merchants, but other artists, patrons and scholars who had undertaken similar journeys abroad. De Vos, who primarily worked as a portrait painter in the 1560s and 70s, must have been particularly sensitive to the social network created by travel. His large double portrait of the international merchant and banker Gillis Hooftman and his wife Margareta van Nispen (Fig.8-2), perhaps bears witness to the appeal of such a well-travelled artist to these patrons. According to Johan Radermacher, Hooftman’s clerk at the time, Hooftman had encouraged the development of Abraham Ortelius’s Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, the first bound atlas, as a cost-effective solution for the needs of international travellers (Hessels 1888, letter numbers 330 and 331). Ortelius had supported the selection of De Vos over Floris for a prestigious commission for the Hooftman family, suggesting artists who travelled were seen as the most elect group of artisans in Antwerp at the time (Sulzberger 1936, 121–136). Yet when De Vos returned to Antwerp, he did not immediately benefit from his trip to Italy. His early works are primarily in portraiture, and rather than finding a place at Granvelle’s court in Brussels, he worked chiefly for well-off Protestant merchants like Hooftman. In 1566, iconoclastic riots swept the Low Countries. This offered opportunities for artists like De Vos to work on replacement altarpieces, but it also signalled the start of decades of war between the Spanish government and local Protestant groups allied with a disaffected nobility. In the later 1560s, the artist was called to decorate the Lutheran chapel of William, Duke of Brunswick-Lüneburg at Celle (Loeper and Schmieglitz-Otten 2012), as well as producing works for prominent Calvinists like Hooftman and Peter

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Panhuys. In this period, De Vos himself is documented as a Lutheran—a fact, which is of crucial significance when we consider the second migratory moment of De Vos’s career.

Fig.8-2 Maerten de Vos, Portrait of Gillis Hooftman and his wife Margaretha van Nispen. Oil on panel, 116 × 140.5 cm. © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The rejected journey By 1585, the war with the Spanish had been waging for over a decade. Disgruntled troops had raided Antwerp in 1576 leading the city to embrace the rebel cause. Around the time of this so-called “Spanish Fury”, De Vos was acting as Dean of the St. Luke’s guild; later De Vos was also the principal negotiator between the painters’ guild and the newly-elected Calvinist city council, persuading them not to sell Quentin Massys’s St. John altarpiece to Queen Elizabeth of England (Zweite 1980, 24–26). In the 1570s and 80s, Antwerp’s population dropped by a fifth. But rather than fleeing—to England or to Germany, as many of his contemporaries did—De Vos apparently thrived. Although as part of the imposition of

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Calvinist city government, altarpieces like De Vos’s own 1574 triptych for the furrier’s guild, went into storage as part of the “Silent Iconoclasm” (Freedberg 1988, 201–203), De Vos continued to make a living producing portraits, designs for prints, and, as I will discuss shortly, religious works for export. In July 1584, Antwerp was besieged by troops under the command of the Duke of Parma, Alessandro Farnese. The siege continued for a year. When it was over, Farnese offered the citizens of Antwerp a choice. They had four years to convert to Catholicism or to leave the city (Soen 2012, 10–17). This was the choice facing De Vos at the second migratory moment in his life. Thousands did take up Farnese’s offer, mostly fleeing north behind rebel lines. Others, like Theodor de Bry, went to England or to Germany. De Vos, as a proven print designer and leading painter, could have begun a new life elsewhere. He was a Lutheran and had worked successfully for Protestants at home and abroad. In fact, he had even designed a handful of pro-Rebel prints, like the one showing the demolition of the Antwerp citadel in 1577 by the town’s citizens after the rout of Habsburg-paid soldiers (Fig.8-3). Yet, at this crucial moment, when the artist had to decide whether to stay in the fallen city or join colleagues emigrating abroad, De Vos’s religious identity proved malleable; his sense of civic and perhaps familial duty superseded other concerns. He stayed. This journey not taken, and the concomitant decision to re-convert to Catholicism enabled De Vos’s work to undertake arguably its most significant migration. His skills as a print designer, honed by the lean years of war when he had produced hundreds of sketches of genre, religious and antique scenes, made him the ideal choice for several crucial print projects in Counter-Reformation Antwerp. De Vos was the principal designer for the 1594 triumphal entry into Antwerp of the new Habsburg regent, Archduke Ernst of Austria (Doutrepont 1937). He was a key illustrator for Gerard de Jode’s Thesaurus Sacrarum Historiarum, a picture Bible, first published before the siege in 1579 and republished in repeated and expanded editions shortly thereafter (Mielke 1975). De Jode had given his religion as Calvinist before the fall of Antwerp but also reconverted to Catholicism. For these artists, staying in Antwerp outweighed personal religious conviction. I would suggest that this fact points to the continuing economic power of the Antwerp print industry in particular, but also of the local art market more generally, despite the devastation of the war. It was easier to change one’s faith, than to leave a city—albeit critically damaged—that offered such opportunities.

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Fig.8-3 Hieronymus Wierix (?) after Maerten de Vos, The excavation of the fortifications at Antwerp, 1577, engraving, 283 mm × 220 mm. © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam.

The virtual journey Even during the war there is evidence that the city continued to enjoy a robust export market for art. A 1581 St. Michael the Archangel by De Vos, alongside at least two other panels by his studio now in Cuatitlán, Mexico

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must have travelled to this former Franciscan monastery by 1582/3, when the painting was copied by local artists. De Vos’s original painting most likely departed from Europe via the port of Seville, which held the official monopoly on trade with the Spanish territories in the Americas (de la Maza 1971). Between 1583 and 1599, an average of 144 paintings were sent annually from Seville to the American viceroyalties (de Marchi and van Miegroet 2006, 97). A considerable proportion of these paintings originated in Antwerp, capitalizing on existing mercantile ties between the two cities, and eventually contributing to the rise of vertically-integrated international art dealers, who commissioned a diverse array of artworks in order to respond to American demand. Artists and dealers in Seville and in Antwerp, ships’ captains traversing the Atlantic, as well as consumers in Spanish Latin America eager for imported paintings sustained this trade. These works travelled to Mexico at a time when domestic demand was low and De Vos’s home-town was suffering from the closure of the river Scheldt, Antwerp’s trading lifeline. Though the estuary of the Scheldt was controlled by the Dutch rebels in the early 1580s, trade with Spain did continue during the war—either overland via Rouen and Nantes, or via the harbours of Calais or Dunkirk (on the book trade, see Voet 1969–1972. 2: 436–437, see also Vermeylen 1999). It is therefore possible that De Vos, like the publisher Christopher Plantin and his successor Jan Moretus, sent goods to Spain via one of these routes prior to the retaking of Antwerp in 1585. Alternatively, St. Michael the Archangel could have been sent to New Spain after Antwerp’s return to Habsburg dominion, an opportunity for De Vos to offload older workshop stock. Despite the closure of the Scheldt, it was still possible for De Vos to export works overland via Paris—where migrant artists, paintings, prints and books all found a market. De Vos had several familial and commercial ties to dealers. Philips Lisaert, the brother of De Vos’s sister Barbara’s first husband, was a painter-dealer active in the export trade to Paris in this period (Vermeylen 2012, 102).2 Barbara de Vos’s second marriage to Marten Alleyns, a dealer of pigments and paintings could also have provided her brother Maerten with overseas export opportunities (Vermeylen 2003, 100–106; Vermeylen 2010, 358). Barbara took over his business upon Alleyns’s death sometime in the 1580s (Vermeylen 2003, 73–74). Remarkably few paintings by De Vos survive from the early 1580s, as the ongoing war and the establishment of Calvinist city government destabilized the local art market; De Vos apparently focused his efforts on 2

Citing a 1577 shipment of 21 oil paintings sent by Lisaert to Paris, Antwerp City Archives, Certificatieboeken 38, fol. 3v.

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producing print designs for a variety of Antwerp publishers. De Vos’s doctrinally and politically diverse print designs not only addressed a local divided populace but were also intended to circulate outside of Antwerp and the Low Countries, capitalizing on the city’s longstanding reputation as an international print centre (Vermeylen 2012, van der Stock 1998). Quick to produce and needing little capital outlay, print designs allowed the artist to survive the lean years of the war in a period when many artists left Antwerp. These emigrants included one of De Vos’s few documented students, Wenzel Cobergher, who settled first in Paris in 1579, before moving southward to Rome and Naples (Previtali 1980, 209–217). In contrast, De Vos’s success as a print designer, coupled with his family connections in Antwerp and beyond, allowed him to remain in his hometown. De Vos’s professional contacts with a variety of print publishers in the 1570s and 80s would have offered him additional potential channels for export. For example, Jan Baptista Vrints, registered as an engraver with the St. Luke’s guild in 1573 (Rombouts and van Leris 1864–74, I, 259), also published many of De Vos’s designs in the 1570s and 80s, as well as acting as a seller of art (de Marchi and van Miegroet 1999, 83). Baptista Vrints published a series of Spanish miraculous Virgins in this period, most likely produced for export to Spanish territories. Adriaen Huybrechts, another publisher of prints after De Vos’s designs, like the 1584 engraving by Hieronymus Wierix after the St. Michael the Archangel (Fig.8-4), was also a documented art dealer (Rombouts and van Leris 1864–74, I, 250) active in this period. De Vos, I would suggest, recognized the potential for export opportunities for both his prints and his paintings, better than most. He was able to maintain a living in the city, even during lean times. One of only eight artists wealthy enough to be taxed in 1585 (over 90 per cent of the city was too poor to pay), De Vos had thrived despite the harsh political climate (van Roey 1966–67, 113). This was in part due to his familial and commercial connections to art dealers and, I would argue, his awareness of art’s migratory possibilities. The choice to not emigrate allowed De Vos to become one of the most important global artists of the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. The virtual migration of De Vos’s artistic legacy was only possible because he stayed in Antwerp.

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Fig.8-4 Hieronymus Wierix after Maerten de Vos, St. Michael the Archangel, 1584. Engraving, 291 mm x 202 mm. Bernard F. Rogers Collection. 1935.149, The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago.

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De Vos’s role as a print designer was of paramount importance as it was arguably the market for prints that provided for De Vos in the lean years, while as a young artist De Vos also benefitted from an Antwerpian print culture that favoured artists who had been to Italy. In CounterReformation Antwerp, De Vos was involved in some of the most significant print series produced in the city. He had a key role in the illustration of Geronimo Nadal’s Evangelicae Historiae Imagines, an illustrated devotional manual financed by the Jesuits both in Antwerp and in Rome. The resulting illustrations inspired indigenous artists in Japan, India and New Spain, as the Jesuits used such illustrated print series for both pedagogical and devotional purposes (Dekoninck 2014). De Vos’s earlier prints, like the 1584 St. Michael the Archangel, went into multiple states and were copied by other Antwerp publishers (Schuckman 1995–96, no. 1127) engendering further copies across Europe and across the globe. A circa 1630 altarpiece in Lima, Peru (Fig.8-5) after one of these prints, demonstrates the mobility and translatability of de Vos’s prints. The surprising embrace of the former Lutheran as the preferred religious artist in two very different Habsburg colonies, the Low Countries and the viceroyalty of Peru, suggests that De Vos, because of his own travels and his appreciation of the art’s mobility, was able to market himself as particularly well-qualified to produce didactic and attractive devotional art to appeal to a global market. These three migratory moments in De Vos’s career—the trip to Italy, the decision to remain in Antwerp, his global impact as designer of prints and paintings—thus offer unique insight into Antwerp’s place as a cultural entrépôt, a place through which art and artists constantly moved and where internationalism, rather than religion or ethnicity, defined civic and artistic identity, at least for Maerten De Vos.

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Fig.8-5 Limeño artist, St. Michael the Archangel, Iglesia San Pedro, c. 1630, oil on canvas, San Pedro, Lima. © Aaron Hyman.

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Bibliography Ainsworth, Maryan. 2014. Jan Gossart’s Trip to Rome and his Route to Paragone. Hofstede de Groot 3. Amsterdam: RKD publications. Banz, Claudia. 2000. Höfisches Mäzenatentum in Brüssel. Kardinal Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle (1517–1586) und die Erzherzöge Albrecht (1559–1621) und Isabella (1566–1633). Berlin: Gebr. Mann Verlag. Baroni, Alessandra. 2012. “A Flemish Artist at the Medici Court in Florence at the Second Half of the Sixteenth Century.” In Stradanus 1523–1605: Court Artist of the Medici, edited by Alessandra Baroni and Manfred Sellink, 59–108. Turnhout: Brepols. Bertolotti, Antonino. 1881–82. “Don Giulio Clovio, Principe dei miniatori.” Atti e memorie delle RR. Deputazioni di Storia Patria per le Provincie dell’Emilia VII. 2: 259–279. Boekholt, P. Th. F. M. and E. P. de Booy. 1987. Geschiedenis van de School in Nederland vanaf de middeleeuwen tot aan de huidige tijd. Assen: Van Gorcum. Büttner, Nils. 2000. "‘Quid Siculas sequeris per mille pericula terras?’ Ein Beitrag zur Biographie Pieter Bruegels d. Ä. und zur Kulturgeschichte der niederländischen Italienreise.” Marburger Jahrbuch für Kunstwissenschaft 27: 209–242. Cleland, Elizabeth A.H. 2014. Grand Design: Pieter Coecke van Aelst and Renaissance Tapestry. New York and New Haven: Metropolitan Museum of Art and Yale University Press. Dekoninck, Ralph. 2014. “A graphic koiné for a new religious value. The visual translatability of the Evangelicae historiae imagines.” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 64: 272–297. Denhaene, Godelieve, ed. 2006. Lambert Lombard. Peintre de la Renaissance. Liège 1505/06–1566. Essais interdisciplinaires et catalogue de l'exposition. Brussels: Institut Royal du Patromoine Artistique. Doutrepont, Antoinette. 1937. “Martin de Vos et l'entrée triomphale de l'archiduc Ernest d'Autriche à Anvers en 1594.” Bulletin de l'Institut historique belge de Rome 18: 125–197. Hessels, J. H. 1887. Abrahami Ortelii epistulae. Cambridge: Typis Academiae. Jonckheere, Koenraad. 2013. Michiel Coxcie, 1499–1592 and the giants of his age. London: Harvey Miller. Limentani Virdis, Catarina. 1977. “Martin de Vos e la cultura veneziana.” Antichità viva 16: 3–14.

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Loeper, Ulrich and Juliane Schmieglitz-Otten. 2012. Die Celler Schlosskapelle: Kunstwelten, Politikwelten, Glaubenswelten. Munich: Hirmer. van Mander, Karel. 1994 [1624]. The Lives of the Illustrious Netherlandish and German Painters from the first edition of the Schilderboek (1603–1604). Edited by Hessel Miedema. Translated by Michael Hoyle, et. al., 6 vols. Doornspijk: Davaco. de Marchi, Neil and Hans J. Van Miegroet. 2006. “History of Art Markets.” In Handbook on the Economics of Art and Culture, vol. 1, edited by Victor Ginsburgh and David Throsby, 69–122. Amsterdam: North Holland. de Marchi, Neil and Hans J. Van Miegroet. 1999. “Exploring Markets for Netherlandish Paintings in Spain and Nueva Espana.” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 50: 81–111. de la Maza, Francisco. 1971. El pintor Martín de Vos en México. Mexico City: IIE/UNAM. Mielke, Hans. 1975. “Antwerpener Graphik in der 2. Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts. Der Thesaurus veteris et novi testamenti des Gerard de Jode (1585) und seine Künstler.” Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte 38: 33–42. Peeters, Natasja. 2005. “A corporate image? The Saint Luke’s altarpiece for the Cathedral of Our Lady in Antwerp (1589–1602).” In Florissant: Bijdragen tot de kunstgeschiedenis der Nederlanden (15de – 17de eeuw) Liber amicorum Carl van de Velde, edited by Arnout Balis, Paul Huvenne, Jeanine Lambrecht and Christine Van Mulders, 239–252. Brussels: VUB press. Previtali, Giovanni. 1980. “Fiamminghi a Napoli alla fine del cinquecento: Cornelis Smet, Pietro Torres, Wenzel Coebergher.” In Relations artistiques entre les Pays-Bas et l'Italie à la Renaissance, Études dédiées à Suzanne Sulzberger. Études d'histoire de l'art publiées par L'Institut Historique Belge de Rome: 209–217. Ridolfi, Carlo. 1648. Le maraviglie dell'arte, ouero, Le vite de gl'illvstri pittori veneti, e dello stato. Venice: Giovanni Battista Sgaua. Riggs, Timothy. 1977. Hieronymus Cock: printmaker and publisher. New York: Garland. van Roey, Jan. 1966–67. “De Antwerpse schilders in 1584–1585: Poging tot sociaalreligieus onderzoek.” Jaarboek Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten Antwerpen: 107–132. Rombouts, Philip and Th. van Lieris. 1864–74. De Liggeren en andere historische archieven der Antwerpsche Sint Lucasgilde. 2 vols. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff.

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Schuckman, Christiaan. 1995–96. Maarten de Vos: Hollstein’s Dutch and Flemish etchings, engravings and woodcuts, 1450–1700. vols. 44–46, Rotterdam and Amsterdam: Sound and Vision. Soen, Violet. 2012. “Reconquista and Reconciliation in the Dutch Revolt. The campaign of Governor-General Alexander Farnese in the Dutch Revolt (1578–1592).” Journal of Early Modern History 16: 1–22. van der Stock, Jan. 1998. Printing Images in Antwerp: The introduction of printmaking in a city, fifteenth century to 1585. Rotterdam: Sound and Vision. Sulzberger, Suzanne. 1936. "À propos de deux peintures de Martin De Vos: la decoration de la salle a manger d'Egide Hooftman.” Revue belge d'archéologie et d'histoire de l'art 6: 121–132. van de Velde, Carl. 1975. Frans Floris (1519/20–1570): Leven en werken. 2 vols. Brussels: Paleis der Academiën. Veldman, Ilja. 1977. Maarten van Heemskerck and Dutch Humanism in the Sixteenth Century. Amsterdam: Meulenhoff. Vermeylen, Filip. 1999. “Exporting Art Across the Globe. Art Exports from Antwerp in the Sixteenth Century.” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek 50: 13–30. —. 2003. Painting for the Market: Commercialization of Art in Antwerp’s Golden Age. Turnhout: Brepols. —. 2010. “The colour of money. Dealing in pigments in sixteenth-century Antwerp.” In European Trade in Painters’ Materials to 1700, edited by Jo Kirby Atkinson, 356–365. London: National Gallery of Art. —. 2012. “Between Hope and Despair: The state of the Antwerp art market 1566–85.” In Art after Iconoclasm: Painting in the Netherlands between 1566 and 1585, edited by Koenraad Jonckheere and Ruben Suykerbuyk, 95–108. Turnhout: Brepols. Voet, Leon. 1969–72. The Golden Compasses. The History of the House of Plantin-Moretus. Amsterdam: Vangendt & Co. de Vos, Dirk. 1999. Rogier van der Weyden: the complete works. New York: Harry Abrams. Woodall, Joanna, 2007. Anthonis Mor: Art and Authority. Zwolle: Waanders. Zweite, Armin. 1980. Marten de vos als Maler: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der Antwerpener Malerei in der zweiten Hälfte des 16. Jahrhunderts. Berlin: Gebr. Mann.

CHAPTER NINE JOHAN ZOFFANY’S PAINTING PRACTICE IN CALCUTTA AND LUCKNOW: THE TECHNICAL EXPLORATION OF AN AD HOC STUDIO JESSICA DAVID

As the most heralded portrait painter to visit India in the 1780s, Johan Zoffany (1733–1810) maintained a privileged status among British East India Company officials and royal nawabs throughout his six-year stay; however, the working conditions and materials available to him had a profound influence on his artistic output. The exhibit “Johan Zoffany, RA: Society Observed” at the Yale Center for British Art and Royal Academy in 2011–12 provided the opportunity to conduct a technical study on works spanning over thirty years of Zoffany’s career. Analytical techniques such as x-radiography, infra-red photography, pigment identification and medium analysis were used to understand the painting materials and techniques of the German-born Royal Academician as he manœuvred through the highest ranks of European society to the court of Asaf-ud-Daula in Lucknow. These case studies illuminate the specific challenges Zoffany met in producing paintings on a foreign continent and provide important evidence that Zoffany assimilated both indigenous materials and local personnel into his working practices while in India.

Zoffany in Europe: an inveterate itinerant Upon his arrival in Madras or present-day Chennai in 1783, Zoffany was described by letter of introduction as the “greatest painter that ever visited India” (Webster 2011, 453). Certainly, he was the most successful portrait painter in oils to venture there, distinguishing him from contemporaries like portrait miniaturist Ozias Humphrey and landscape

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painter William Hodges, whose massive success under the patronage of Warren Hastings, Governor-General of Bengal, had fuelled Zoffany’s determination to travel east. By that time he had worked in six royal courts out of at least a dozen studios and was, therefore, accustomed to changing locations and patrons as well as anticipating what supplies he would need to complete his commissions, at least in Western Europe. He was also experienced in being regarded as, or playing the part of, the perpetual foreigner, having spent most of his career outside of his native country, a role that worked to his advantage in navigating circles of foreign and expatriate patrons. Zoffany’s long and varied career is fairly well documented. Answering to Baron and Sir John Zoffany, the Frankfurt-born painter received a distinguished and international training with Martin Speer in Regensburg and with Agostino Masucci and Anton Raphael Mengs in Rome. His career in London began modestly in 1760. Initially, he found employment as a background and drapery painter with the artist Benjamin Wilson but quickly gained notoriety for his conversation pieces through his acquaintance with actor David Garrick, which eventually established him as a high society and court painter to King George III and Queen Charlotte, and ultimately as a founding member of the Royal Academy. His legacy is that of a technically proficient painter with a skill for capturing expression and detail in an effortless manner, often infused with a touch of humour. The many anecdotes about his lifestyle and references to his appearance—as the adventurer, the upstart dressed above his social station or the lanky, one eyed, German—offer a distinctive if sometimes contradictory impression of his person. However, there is relatively little known about the touchstone aspect of his persona: what he was like as a painter. The identity and number of his assistants, his source for materials and method of completing a commission is scarcely documented. Hundreds of letters, drawings and preparatory sketches described in the posthumous sale of his studio were either burnt in the cholera epidemic of 1832 or lost (Webster 2011, 643–644).

In and out of the studio The lack of a paper trail is offset by a prolific body of paintings, including many depictions by Zoffany of himself in the act of painting. If not so much a literal representation of his studio activity, his self-portraits can be read as symbol-rich embodiments of how his private and social lives intermingled with his professional one, but in no sense do they

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realistically document his painting practice.1 The most reliable account of how Zoffany painted is the physical evidence of his extant œuvre, and the exploration into what is “typical” for him has revealed that he was, at times, an extremely erratic and even illogical painter with little concern for deadlines. The smooth paint surfaces and poised demeanours of his subjects conceal an often turbulent creative process that reflect the selffashioned, mercurial character of their maker. An entry in Elizabeth Prowse’s (née Sharp) diary relating to her inclusion in The Sharp Family, 1779–81 (National Portrait Gallery, London) affirms that Zoffany made portrait studies of each sitter from life over the course of a year, but that the majority of painting took place in his studio where he assembled and rearranged the figures on canvas for an additional two years before its display at the Royal Academy in 1781 (Kerslake 1978, 753). His Drummond Family, c.1769 (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven) also took at least three years to complete, during which time the portrait’s central figure and family patriarch died and the young heir, George Drummond, Third Earl of Stanmore, grew a full head taller (David 2011, 172). Zoffany was an inveterate re-worker, and his canvases are often littered with the shadowy silhouettes of over-painted figures and spare limbs, rubbed out or covered over in swift successions of repainting. Yet, however unusually his paintings developed, they were always begun in a systematic fashion. Zoffany was consistent with his choice of canvas and painting materials, invariably using fine plain weave linen canvas. All of his British paintings included in this study were prepared with double lead white grounds, separated by a thin layer of animal glue. He was clearly particular about the type of support he painted on and likely sourced them, pre-stretched and prepared, from a colourman or artist supplier. Once in the studio, his compositions developed far less systematically. Zoffany did not draw on his canvases; rather he sketched forms with a paintbrush and thin, dark brown paint. These initial, searching brushstrokes are amply visible on his unfinished portraits like David Garrick, 1766–67 (Garrick Club, London). Upper paint layers were applied swiftly, permitting little drying time between sittings, often resulting in drying 1 Zoffany rarely depicts himself in a plausible studio environment, although he is usually pictured with the tools of a painter: a loaded palette, an easel, brushes, and rags. A good example of this is his Self-Portrait with His Daughter Maria Theresa, James Cervetto, and Giacobbe Cervetto from c.1780 (Yale Center for British Art) in which he stands before a large canvas with a palette, brushes and porte crayon in hand, his work distracted by his daughter, Marie Theresa, who leans against him looking on at the cello playing of James Cervetto.

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wrinkles or a puckering of the paint’s surface. There is no evidence of economy in either the choice or expenditure of pigment; rather, he used every hue available, and frequently laid mixtures of costly pigments as an initial or blocking-in layer. The image that begins to emerge of Zoffany in his studio, a picture that is not described in written accounts or in his self-portraits, is that of a confident, brusque painter surrounded by every conceivable material he would need to paint, and many drawings; perhaps multiple drawings of the same subject in more than one position that he would assemble in paint as he worked out the composition.2 He was undoubtedly working on more than one painting at any time, but barely allowed any to dry before digging back into the paint layer to make fine adjustments or massive alterations. It is not a practice that would seem to travel well. None-the-less, in 1772 Zoffany was preparing to embark on a global journey, not to India but on Captain James Cook’s second voyage to the South Pacific. He was invited to join the expedition by the eminent botanist, Sir Joseph Banks, to be his artist-recorder. Although both men abandoned the scheme owing to the limited accommodations on board, Zoffany had already purchased a supply of materials and had them delivered to Cook’s ship, the Resolution. An inventory of his supplies was described in a later account by his wife, Mary Zoffany (Webster 2011, 271). These included paper, pens, inks, brushes, oils, pigment and a large roll of canvas. It is not known what happened to these provisions. When those plans dissolved he swiftly accepted a commission from Queen Charlotte to paint for her the interior of the Uffizi’s Tribuna in Florence, perhaps his most famous work (now in the Royal Collection, Windsor). He left Banks with a promise to return to the expedition at a fortnight’s notice should circumstances change, but another painter and friend of Zoffany, William Hodges, took his place on Bank’s next voyage, and Zoffany remained in Italy for seven years (Lyte 1980, 157).

Painting in situ There are many accounts of Zoffany working in the Tribuna itself, and he included a depiction of his makeshift studio at the lower right of the 2

The posthumous inventory of Zoffany’s studio includes a large volume of his artwork with folios of drawings made from life and copied after ancient and old master sources, prints picturing a wide variety of subjects from various periods, a portable easel, pigment and paint grinding implements and a camera obscura (Manners and Williamson 1920).

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painting.3 His tools are abandoned as the painter is shown conversing with friends and dilettanti on the Grand Tour, an accurate representation of his time in Florence according to witnesses and sitters, Sir Horace Mann and George Finch, Ninth Earl of Winchelsea (Millar 1967, 20–21). Zoffany's source for materials in Florence is not known but certainly the options were abundant in that centre of artistic production and, with his financial comfort and fluent Italian, easily obtained. The palette pictured in his Tribuna is loaded with the same piles (and order) of pigment as in his other self-portraits. Examination of the Tribuna canvas reveals that the vertical proportions of the composition were extended with a strip of canvas of slightly coarser weave than the primary canvas. Surely if Zoffany had brought a roll with him then the same canvas would have been used for the extension.4 While in Italy, Zoffany took commissions from other patrons such as George Nassau, Third Earl Cowper, who is pictured beside him in the Tribuna, and the Grand Duke Pietro Leopoldo. These portraits were executed on significantly coarser canvases than his usual choice, a wide burlap-like weave as opposed to fine linen. Rather than his typical double white ground, the coarse canvas was prepared with a red earth-colour ground layer. This aberration in support choice could be read as insignificant, a concession to locally available pre-prepared canvas. However, Zoffany’s handling of this canvas supply, a quantity that adds up to at least three and a half square yards (about three square metres), attests to his intolerance towards novel supplies.5

3

Zoffany arrived in Florence in the summer of 1772 and worked on the painting of the Tribuna, on and off, until at least 1777, although he did not return to England until 1779 (Millar 1967). 4 Details on canvas weave supplied by Claire Chorley, painting conservator, Royal Collection, Windsor (personal correspondence, February 2002). It was not unusual for Zoffany to enlarge his canvases. His William Berry Introduced as Heir of Raith, 1769 was extended on all sides. 5 These measurements are based on three Zoffany paintings, George Nassau, Third Earl Cowper, 1772-3, Miss Anne Gore as Savoyarde, 1774 (both of the Firle Estate Settlement) and The Gore Family with George, Third Earl Cowper, c. 1775 (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven), that were examined at the Center and found to have the same, exceptionally coarse, canvas weave of 7-8 threads/cm² and identical red ground layers covered with a double white ground. Contemporary paintings like Archduke Francis, 1775 and The Family of the Grand Duke Pietro Leopoldo, 1776, from the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna appear to be painted on similar canvases but technical examination has not confirmed the exact thread counts or ground structures.

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X-radiographs of Miss Anne Gore as Savoyarde, 1774 (Firle Estate Settlement, Sussex), and The Gore Family with George, Third Earl Cowper, c.1775 (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven), reveal multiple arch-shaped spatula marks across both canvases, evidence that they were trowelled over with Zoffany’s preferred double white ground layer, separated as usual by a thin layer of glue.6 The white ground on his Italian canvases is thicker than on his English ones because it at once fills the broad canvas interstices and obliterates the red hue to simulate the smooth, bright surface that suited his needs. This episode implies that Zoffany did not bring a full atelier of supplies with him to Florence, as he intended to on the Resolution, although he fully intended to customize his materials as necessary. The commission and stipend that Zoffany received from Queen Charlotte was for a single view of the Tribuna. First-hand accounts and x-ray examination of the painting affirm that it was a challenging composition made no simpler by the incessant addition and removal of figures. Due to extensive reworking, various side-commissions and personal reasons, it took seven years to deliver. This, and Charlotte’s general displeasure with the painting, and its abundant portraits of random tourists, marked the end of Zoffany’s favour at the British court (Millar 1967, 20–21). An even greater setback was that the taste for conversation pieces had waned while Zoffany was away from England.

Rolling in gold: aspirations of the artist abroad Zoffany closed his London studio when he planned to join Cook’s expedition, reportedly leaving many unfinished portraits and displeased clients behind (Webster 2011, 271). The unenthusiastic reception of his Tribuna by Queen Charlotte, compounded by the lack of a patron base in London, prompted a change of course. Reports of landscape painters Tilly Kettle and William Hodges’ tremendous success in India would surely have reached the unengaged painter. Hodges, having completed his expedition to the South Pacific in Zoffany’s place, had since become the most successful landscape painter in India and salaried artist to Warren Hastings (Stuebe 1973). Zoffany’s wanderlust was piqued, and he confided in another painter and friend, Paul Sanby, of his plans to travel to India and “roll in gold dust” (Gandon 1846, 67). 6

Zoffany’s ground layers were typically applied to his canvases using a brush, but in these cases the first layer of red ground was obliterated with a thick application of lead white applied with the edge of a spatula. It is unclear whether the second layer of lead white was applied the same way.

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Zoffany received permission from the British East India Company for a passage to Bengal in January 1783, although Company rules stipulated that no free agents could travel on their vessels. He boarded the Lord McCartney at Portsmouth in March of the same year, undoubtedly aided by Company officials who listed him as a “midshipmen” on the Madrasbound7 vessel (Treadwell 2009, 333). It is unlikely that Zoffany sustained his disguise aboard ship. If he had, he would have shared a small cabin with five others, but in any case it is doubtful that he was able to transport the quantity of supplies that he planned to bring on the Resolution. When Zoffany arrived in Madras, and soon after in Calcutta,8 he would have found some painting materials there. Oil painting was not an art form indigenous to India but the necessary materials—drying oils like linseed and poppy oil, pigment and linen canvas—were available and advertised in the weekly papers. Advertisers like the Calcutta and Bengal Gazettes refer to European stores or trading places, though not the markets frequented and run by local people. Listings for pigments, drying oils, resins (that could be used for varnish) are intermingled with a seemingly arbitrary inventory, suggesting that most sellers did not cater specifically to painters but to a broad group of craftspeople.9 The London company Reeves & Sons was the exclusive provider of artists’ supplies to the British East India Company. Throughout the 1780s they imported drawing and watercolour materials, like extra-large rolls of paper and sets of watercolour cakes four times the usual size (Goodwin 1966, 5–7). These were specifically manufactured for artists employed by the Company for the production of in situ views of Northern India, mainly for political and economic purposes. By the 1790s, Reeves & Sons were defending their monopoly of oil painting materials as well, and advertisements for complete colours chests, including jars of loose pigment, appear more frequently in English language Indian advertisers. Reeves even warned their customers, among them “captains, pursuars and others trading in India”, of pirate or fraudulent suppliers selling inferior pigment sets under their name (London Times, 7 November 1805). Regardless of the market for legal or fraudulent painting supplies, there are still many anecdotes about the shortage of painting materials in India at that time. In September 1786, for example, the oil painter John Alefounder 7

Modern-day Chennai. Modern-day Kolkata. 9 A typical advertisement from the Calcutta Gazette lists artists’ materials like Europe linseed oil, white lead, fine verdegrease [verdigris], vermillion, Prussian blue, blue verditer and canvas in the same advertisement with supplies of rope, glass and ironwork (Calcutta Gazette, 3 January 1785). 8

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reports in the Calcutta Gazette that fellow painter, Arthur William Devis was not authorized to sell his painting tools during his (Alefounder’s) illness and demands their return, particularly of his fine fitch pencils of which none were available in Kolkata (Calcutta Gazette, 7 September 1786). What Alefounder calls “fitch pencils” are certainly soft, sable-like paint brushes, the type used for blending oil paint to a smooth finish.10 From the start, Zoffany met with different circumstances. Like Hodges, he owed much of his immediate success in India to the introductions of Warren Hastings and spent the next eight months in Calcutta, a busy port city in which any supplies that were imported could be found. There, Zoffany bought a new house in a fashionable district where he became as much of a social fixture as an artistic one amidst the city’s British elite, among them chief justice, Elijah Impey, for who he painted a family portrait in 1783–84 (Thyssen-Bornemisza Collection, Madrid). Zoffany portrayed Impey beside a group of Indian musicians, clapping in time to their melody as his daughter, Marian, dances. A dynastic conversation piece imbued with local culture, it is the type of hybrid scene that characterizes Zoffany’s India-period paintings. Stocking his studio was apparently not a problem for Zoffany, either due to whatever he brought from Europe or, more likely, was able to buy in Calcutta for the right price. The materials he used to paint a bust-length portrait of Warren Hastings (Fig.9-1) in 1783–84 are completely consistent with how he painted in Europe, from the type of canvas, to the double lead white preparatory layer and the dense pigment mixture of vermilion and ultramarine on Hasting’s coat.11 This is not entirely surprising due to his connections, available funds and location, but Zoffany had ambitions further afield.

Up river In 1784, Zoffany followed Warren Hastings north to the royal court of Asaf-ud-Daula in Lucknow, a watershed event in his career and the first of three visits he would make there. The journey took nearly a month by boat, horse and foot, and Zoffany reportedly suffered a “thousand distresses” along the way—not ideal circumstances for transporting quantities of 10

Devis had sold Alefounder’s belongings to pay off his friend's tremendous debts after his suicide attempt, at which Alefounder succeeded shortly after. 11 Pigment identification was conducted using pigment dispersions, microscopic and cross-section examination at the Yale Center for British art. Specific pigments were identified by Dr. Jens Stenger, Institute for the Preservation of Cultural Heritage, Yale University (unpublished analytical report, 2014).

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painting materials (Greig 2011, 144). Despite the trying journey, Zoffany produced many drawings en route between Lucknow and the port cities, wasting no time in collecting sources that he would later incorporate into paintings.

Fig.9-1 Johan Zoffany, Warren Hastings, 1783–84, oil on canvas, 72.4 x 61.6 cm (28 1/2 x 24 1/4 in). © Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Fund.

A chalk rendering of Asaf-ud-Daula’s head and shoulders from 1784 (now in the Royal Collection, Windsor) is a rare survivor of the type of portrait sketch that Zoffany would have stored for reference and re-use. It is the source for a number of likenesses of the Indian ruler, though perhaps not as many Zoffany had hoped to supply. A drawback of working in that very opulent court was that Asaf-ud-Daula was not paying Zoffany for his paintings and was, in fact, enormously in debt to the British East India Company for the outstanding loans and military protection they purportedly provided him. As a result, Zoffany was compelled to take commissions from Company officials, like James Graham (Fig.9-2).

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Fig.9-2 Johan Zoffany, James Graham of Rickerby and Barrock Lodge, 1786, oil on canvas, 90.8 x 66 cm (35¾ x 26 in). © Tullie House Museum & Art Gallery, Carlisle. Overall and detail (right) showing drying aberrations and brush imprints on the paint surface.

The portrait of James Graham of Rickerby and Barrock Lodge, c.1786 (Tullie House Museum and Art Gallery Trust, Carlisle) is one of several painted in Lucknow that were, until recently, only tentatively attributed to Zoffany. Its attribution is now strongly based on documentary support, but it is clear why it was formerly questioned (Postle 2011, 275). There is none of the ease and fluidity of paint application that is typical of Zoffany’s technique, even of the compositions that underwent excavation and repainting. Rather the brushwork looks laboured, each stroke leaving strings and pools of paint behind. The sparse appearance of the grey wall and discursive handling of the landscape, for example, do not emulate Zoffany’s signature virtuosity. All of these characteristics, however, may relate to factors beyond the painter’s control, such as the impact of Lucknow’s rainy season on the drying of his linseed oil (David 2011). With temperatures above 40° Celsius (over 100º F), and 100 per cent humidity, the upper skin of paint could dry quickly while the layer beneath remained viscous for many days. The brush’s imprint on the paint layer, its wrinkled topography and unfinished appearance all suggest that Zoffany was battling with the

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conditions of his Lucknow studio and, as ever, the clock. Small-scale single portraits achieved the lowest prices, which may also explain why Zoffany did not devote more time to its completion or expend more materials than he absolutely had to. Graham’s portrait also contains the first identified clue that Zoffany experimented with, or resorted to, local materials. Pigment analysis of paint samples taken from Graham’s green coat confirmed the presence of Indian yellow.12 The pigment was commonly used by Indian painters, which may be where Zoffany acquired it, and it would be several years before it was exported in bulk to Europe. He was not the only European artist to substitute local materials for those imported by Reeves & Sons. Portraitist James Wales sent requests to Madras from the eastern city of Poona13 for rolls of canvas, brushes, framing material and a lay figure, or mannequin. His orders took approximately six months to arrive, but they do not include pigment. His journal explains why. Wales found quantities of high-quality colours and drying oils at the local market in Pune, some of which he could identify while others, “another curious colour, a green stone burnt and also a white oker” sparked his curiosity.14 Zoffany’s reason for travelling back and forth between Lucknow and Calcutta may have been due to the climate or advantageous commissions, but it could also relate to his need for restocking fresh materials. His portrait of Colonel Blair with his Family and an Indian Ayah, 1786 (Tate Britain, London) was painted on one of his trips back to Calcutta. It was examined at the Tate but revealed absolutely no unusual characteristics or materials, indicating that Zoffany’s studio there was amply stocked with his preferred selection of paint materials.15

Collage, reconstruction and the Cock Match Many of the single portraits that Zoffany painted in Lucknow, like those of James Graham and Asaf-ud-Daula, were reproduced in one of his 12 Indian yellow is produced from the urine of cows fed exclusively on mango leaves. It was identified in a dispersed pigment sample from Graham’s coat using polarized light microscopy and in a cross-section taken from the same location by Dr. James Eckert, Dept. Geology & Geophysics, Yale University. 13 Modern-day Pune. 14 In an entry made at Poona on Monday, 23 April 1792, Wales lists a number of recognizable pigments, such as natural ultramarine, native cinnabar, orpiment, yellow ocher, black made from coco nutshell and Indian red (Wales 1792, 31). 15 Sourced from the unpublished technical examination of Colonel Blair with his Family and an Indian Ayah by Rica Jones and Marie Grassin (Tate Britain), 2009.

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largest commissions while in India. Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match (Fig.9-3, Tate Britain, London), painted for Warren Hastings in 1784–86, posed a tremendous technical challenge, comprising numerous portraits and stock figures performing an array of activities beneath a multi-tent canopy. Like his Tribuna, the Cock Match was composed of likenesses and impressions that Zoffany would have developed over a long period. He hoped to incorporate James Graham, supposedly needing a corpulent figure to contrast the very slender Robert Gregory (Postle 2011, 275). If true, it is not surprising that Graham declined and Lt. William Golding, a man of similar build, was inserted. In fact, many of the figures included were not in Lucknow simultaneously, but were gathered in absentia by Zoffany.16 The paint stratigraphy and materials of Cock Match were also studied at the Tate and, again, it was found to contain no new or atypical materials.17 However, it has long been rumoured that the original version of the painting was lost at sea and that the extant painting was completely reconstructed in Zoffany’s London studio based on surviving sketches.18 To complicate matters further, there is a second version (Fig.9-4) of the painting that remained in India after his departure and is now in White’s Club in London. It is significant because it clearly shows the hand of at least one other, likely Indian, artist who contributed to the composition that was partially completed by Zoffany, perhaps begun for another patron and left unfinished.

16

Golding sits at the right foreground wearing sandals with curled toes or jutti and holds a brown and black-feathered rooster. He stares up at Robert Gregory who leans forward holding a white rooster. 17 Unpublished technical examination of Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match by Rica Jones, Joyce Townsend and Tom Learner (Tate Britain), 1994-5. 18 Accounts that the Cock Match was lost at sea and reconstructed in London (perhaps without Hastings’s knowledge) are frequent in the 1820s, although the credibility of these reports has been questioned. An 1824 promotion for a print made after the Cock Match retells the event with an anecdotal tone. “[He] arrived safe, and heard, with the philosophy of a stoic, that his labour was gone to the gallery of that ancient collector, but sorry connoisseur, old Neptune […]. The painter kept his own council, as the story goes, and Governor Hastings was never let into the secret” (Somerset House Gazette, and Literary Museum, 24 August 1824, 315).

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Fig.9-3 Johan Zoffany, Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match, c. 1784–86, oil on canvas, 103.9 x 150 cm (40 Ǭ x 59 in). © Tate, London 2011.

Little is known of Zoffany’s apprentices although he certainly employed assistants in his London studio on Portugal Row (Treadwell 2009, 185–192). The few pupils he acquired tended to possess or soon acquire financial support from elsewhere and did not stay long in his tutelage. Thomas Longcroft is one such. The son of former neighbours of Zoffany in London, he followed the latter to India in search of artistic opportunity but eventually abandoned painting for a brief, unsuccessful career as an indigo farmer (Twining 1893, 284). There is no evidence that he worked on any of Zoffany’s paintings abroad, but rather made his own views of India in consultation with Zoffany. The Delhi-born painter Lalljee is a more likely candidate for finishing the second, or White’s, version of Cock Match. According to painter James Baille Fraser, Lalljee studied with Zoffany, although a journal entry is the only known reference to their relationship (Archer and Falk 1989, 37).

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Fig.9-4 Johan Zoffany and an unknown painter, Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match, 1786–c.1790, oil on canvas, 119.1 x 86.6 cm (46Ǭ x 34ǩ in). © White’s Club, London.

The faces of some of the more prominent figures in White’s Cock Match appear to be painted in Zoffany’s hand in the exact same positions as they are in the Hastings’s (or Tate) version, whereas many of the auxiliary figures have been omitted or appear in different postures. This affirms that whoever finished the second Cock Match had access to Zoffany’s sources, and not only those related to the first version of the painting but perhaps to other paintings like the Impey family portrait that contains a similar group of musicians to those in the background, left, of the White’s version. The passages that do not appear to be painted by Zoffany were carefully drawn. Drawing lines are visible in infrared photography, which penetrates the upper paint layer to reveal the carbon-based drawing lines below. As Zoffany never drew his figures on canvas, those stiff, careful lines can be interpreted as the work of an assistant. The paint application in those areas is hesitant and often muddied, as if applied by a painter

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unaccustomed to working with oil paint. Lalljee, an accomplished miniature painter who may have had no or little training in oil painting, fits the profile of this unknown artist. Zoffany appears in both paintings. In Hastings’s version he sits nonchalantly with a port-crayon in his hand, as if observing and recording. In White’s version he is clearly painted in another hand and shown, very literally, as a painter with a palette and brushes. His features are generalized but recognizable, probably rendered from memory by whoever finished the painting.

After India: influence and oeuvre With mystery surrounding the execution of Cock Match, perhaps Zoffany’s best-known India-period painting, the relevance of less spectacular but solidly placed examples from those years becomes even more significant, certainly in terms of technical comparison. The examination of James Graham, for example, has shed new light on a portrait of Patrick Heatly, c. 1783–87 (Yale Center for British Art, New Haven), which was not firmly attributed to Zoffany. The same qualities that had weakened its attribution, like the texture of the paint, the unresolved background and lack of sharp detail, are characteristics shared by both portraits. Heatly’s construction is consistent with Zoffany’s practice and the passages that appear loosely if not carelessly rendered were heavily repainted by the artist to eliminate a decorative archway, reminiscent of local architecture. The present background places Heatly on an open cliff, presumably overlooking the port of Madras (Fig.9-5).19 He raises his hat in a salutary gesture that Zoffany employed several times in India, as in portraits Sir Francis Holvering, c. 1783–85, and Major George Maule, c. 1784 (private collections) who both stand beside a port. The gesture echoes Earl Cowper’s stance in the single portrait from Firle, and the dog is another stock figure employed throughout Zoffany’s œuvre. Dozens of the paintings Zoffany completed in India are lost or presumed destroyed, so the rediscovery of one that made its way back to Britain, like the portrait of Heatly, is gratifying if not surprising. That is not to suggest that his legacy in India, including the forty-seven paintings and drawings left in the collection of friend Antoine Polier (1741–95), made no impact after his departure. Paintings produced by Indian artists in 19

The change in composition of Patrick Heatly is evident in X-radiography only (see Fig.9-5).

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the style of Zoffany attest to his influence there, on non-European collectors as well as local painters like Lalljee, and a number of significant commissions such as his portrait of Warren Hasting and his wife, 1783 and the Death of the Royal Tiger (completed in England c. 1790) are presently housed in the Victoria Memorial Hall in Kolkata.

Fig.9-5 Johan Zoffany, Patrick Heatly, c. 1783–87, oil on canvas, 96.5 x 81.9 cm (38 x 32½ in). © Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection. Overall photo with x-radiograph at right showing the overpainted architectural setting in which Heatly originally sat.

Zoffany’s return to England was as dramatic as any of his adventures in India, at least according to the press. Reported dead, shipwrecked and suffering the effects of a stroke, the media coverage of his progress home prepared his family for the worst, and for the best. Newspapers speculated on what he had earned while away with optimistic sums ranging from £30,000–60,000 (Whitehall Evening Post, 11 January 1785). Upon his return he deposited about £3500 into his account at Drummond’s Bank and purchased several adjacent houses at Strand on the Green, London. Many friends upon his return to London corroborated the rumour of his stroke aboard the ship but he continued to paint and exhibit, mostly Indiathemed paintings that sold well (Greig 2011, 165; Postle 2011, 281). Similar to Zoffany’s practice of forming new compositions from a repository of sources and experiences, the case studies presented here were pooled from technical data collected from paintings spanning the artist’s

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entire career.20 They do not provide an exhaustive account of his multifarious practices and techniques, but illuminate specific patterns in his studio practice, his preference in materials and expectations of a working studio. His experience in conceiving technically ambitious commissions, often away from his permanent atelier, validated his reputation as the premier portraitist in India. During their brief overlap in Calcutta, miniature portraitist Ozias Humphrey did not advocate Zoffany’s title as “the greatest painter to visit India”. Humphrey complained that he had not received a commission in months due to the (European) people of Calcutta’s ignorance of anything but a good likeness and smooth finish, as well as the fact that they hardly ever saw oil paintings (Carey 1964, 28). Certainly by the time Zoffany left India there was a competitive market for oil painters, and specifically portraitists, though few achieved his success. Zoffany’s ability to capture a likeness and create a smooth finish was not the only quality in his favour. He had a talent for portraying his subjects objectively while subtly inserting clues to their personality, status and location. His skill at imbuing a painting with a sense of place without it overpowering the sitter worked to his particular advantage in India. Finally, his diplomacy and proficiency at adapting to different locations, even with great setbacks, enabled him to manœuvre the line between British and Indian tastes. The relationship between Zoffany’s painting technique and personality, his habitual reworking of canvases and selfreinvention as an artist, gentleman and adventurer, is evident throughout his oeuvre but the analogy is most striking in his India-period compositions.

Bibliography Archer, Mildred and Toby Falk. 1989. India Revealed: The Art and Adventures of James and William Fraser, 1801–35. London: Cassell & Co. Calcutta Gazette, 3 January 1785. Calcutta Gazette, 7 September 1786. Carey, W.H. 1964. The Good Old Days of Honourable John Company. Kolkata: Calcutta Quins Book Co. 20

I am greatly indebted to the painting conservation departments at Tate Britain, London; the Royal Collection, Windsor; the Hamilton Kerr Institute, University of Cambridge, and in particular to Rica Jones, Helen Brett, Rupert Featherstone, Claire Chorley, Nicola Christie and Tabitha Teuma for sharing their research and documentation.

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David, Jessica. 2011. "Zoffany's Painting Technique: The Drummond Family in Focus" In Johan Zoffany: Society Observed, edited by Martin Postle, 167–174. New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Gandon, J. 1846. The Life and Times of James Gandon, Esq.. Dublin: Hodges and Smith. Goodwin, Michael. 1966. Artist and Colourman. Middlesex: Enfield & Reeves Greig, Charles. 2011. “In Zoffany's Footsteps: Journeys in Upper India, Past & Present." In Johan Zoffany: Society Observed, edited by Martin Postle, 141–166. New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Kerslake, John. 1978. "A Note on Zoffany's Sharp Family." The Burlington Magazine 120, No. 908: 753–754. London Times, 7 November 1805. Lyte, C. 1980. Sir Joseph Banks: Eighteenth Century Explorer, Botanist and Entrepreneur. Newton Abbot: David and Charles. Manners, Lady Victoria and G.G. Williamson. 1920. John Zoffany, R.A. his life and works: 1735–1810. London: John Lane, The Bodley Head. Millar, Oliver. 1967. Zoffany and his Tribuna. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Postle, Martin. 2011. "A Passage to India." In Johan Zoffany: Society Observed, edited by Martin Postle, 264–292. New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Somerset House Gazette, and Literary Museum, 24 August 1824. Stuebe, Isabel. 1973. "William Hodges and Warren Hastings: A Study in Eighteenth-Century Patronage." The Burlington Magazine 115, No. 847: 657–666. Treadwell, Penelope. 2009. Johan Zoffany: Artist and Adventurer. London: Paul Holberton Publishing. Twining, Thomas. 1893. Travels in India a Hundred Years Ago. London: J.R. Osgood, McIlvaine & Co. Wales, James.1792. Diary and Notebook, Vol. 2, Unpublished. Puna. Webster, Mary. 2011. Johan Zoffany, R.A.: 1733–1810. New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Whitehall Evening Post, 11 January 1785.

CHAPTER TEN WILLIAM SHIELS: AMERICAN LESSONS LEARNED; SHAPING THE NEW SCOTTISH ACADEMY FROM 1826 FIONA V. SALVESEN MURRELL

On 9 September 1825, John Vanderlyn wrote to his nephew, John Vanderlyn Jr., advocating an itinerancy painting “cheap and slight” portraits for him, as: “…the mass of folks can’t judge of the merits of a well finished picture…” (Jaffe 1993, 39). This quote illustrates that not only were most artists working in the USA itinerant—a necessity to reach the scattered population of the Eastern United States—but also that for the vast majority of Americans, knowledge of good quality fine art remained an exceptional experience. By this point, 1825, the Scottish artist William Shiels (1783–1857), (Fig.10-1) had worked in the United States for eight years and was on the verge of returning to Britain. This chapter will describe how Shiels’ experiences during his long-term stay in America, which included the co-founding and directing of the South Carolina Academy of Fine Arts in Charleston, informed his actions upon his return to Scotland. In Edinburgh, Shiels co-founded the (Royal) Scottish Academy in 1826 and played a very active role with his colleagues in both eradicating the monopoly of the aristocrat-run Royal Institution and uniting the divided artists of the city.1

London to New York Shiels, having trained at the Trustees’ Academy in Edinburgh and then at the Royal Academy, worked mostly in London between 1808 and 1817 1

The Academy was awarded its Royal Charter in 1837.

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Fig.10-1 James Good Tunny, William Shiels, 1854, albumen photograph. © The Royal Scottish Academy of Art & Architecture collections.

(Salvesen Murrell 2009 & 2013a). There, he was familiar with several American artists; foremost amongst them was the President of the Royal Academy, Benjamin West (1738–1820) whom Shiels visited regularly “by invitation” (NAS, GD492/226) and he was friendly with John Singleton Copley and his family. Shiels also met Americans who were studying in London, including Charles Bird King and Samuel Lovett Waldo, both of whom had (with private advice from West), drawn from the plaster casts, like Shiels, in 1807 and were admitted as students at the RA on the same

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day as Shiels (RA Archive 1808, Cosentino 1977, Gibbs 1994, Evans 1980).2 Similarly, Thomas Sully studied in London in 1809-10, and Washington Allston, Samuel F. B. Morse and Charles Robert Leslie arrived in 1811. These American connections, having the freedom to relocate, and hearing positive discussions attendant on emigration (e.g. Hulme 1817, 22) were influential factors in triggering Shiels’ decision to immigrate to the United States in 1817. His exact motives for doing so have not explicitly survived, but the greatest prompt may well have been Britain’s serious economic depression following the Napoleonic Wars. Following the Peace of Ghent, the USA was able to export goods and by 1817 Sir John Sinclair was of the opinion that, “America was the only country in the World enjoying happiness with prospects of greatness” (Adams 1874–77, III, 547). Whether by art, or design, Shiels boarded the same ship as John Quincy Adams, the American Ambassador, who was returning to the USA to become Secretary of State. Shortly after arriving in New York on the 6 August 1817, Adams commissioned Shiels to paint his portrait and introduced him to John Trumbull, President of the American Academy of Fine Arts (AAFA) (Adams, J.Q., 10 Aug. 1817). Through this introduction, Shiels would have met most of the practicing artists in New York including William Dunlap, Keeper of the AAFA. The American Beacon and Commercial Diary publicised Shiels’ arrival (29 Aug. 1817): MR. SHIELS. — It is with great pleasure that we announce the arrival of this gentleman in our city... Mr. Adams has spoken [of him] in terms of approbation, both as a respectable citizen and painter. It is very well known that the celebrated Mr. West, president of the royal academy of arts in London, speaks of him [Shiels] as a gentleman of high respectability in his profession.3

Shiels found a studio close to the Customs House and was quickly overwhelmed by orders for portraits, as Adams described (Adams, J.Q., 1817, 14 Sept.): I went to Shiels at his painting room N. 20 Wall Street, and sat to him an hour to finish my picture. He says he has not been an hour disengaged

2

Waldo had practiced as a portrait painter in Charleston, SC, but came to London via New York in 1806 to develop his skills; he must have discussed his experiences with his fellow students, including Shiels. 3 West must have furnished Shiels with a letter of introduction.

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Chapter Ten since he arrived in New York; that he has more work than he can do, and he has more than fifty orders for portraits upon hand.

This was an excellent start to Shiels’ new life, but it did not continue as easily.

American Academies For most Americans the fine arts were a novelty at best, and yet to be highly valued; they instead prioritised immediate material needs and commerce. Thus the fine arts were of deep interest to only a small minority who were more concentrated in large cities, such as New York and Philadelphia, where the AAFA4 and the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts (PAFA) were founded in 1801 and 1805 respectively. Both the AAFA and the PAFA were established with boards of directors who were busy statesmen, bankers, merchants, physicians, and philanthropists rather than practitioners of art, which led to conflicts with the artists (Cowdrey 1953; Nygren 1971; Schreiber 1980). Furthermore, the AAFA’s board was happy to be led by Trumbull who dominated the institution in his inimitable autocratic style and antagonised many artists and aspiring students. The AAFA favoured exhibiting Old Masters and repeatedly exhibited Trumbull’s and other stalwarts’ paintings and the public grew tired of seeing the same pictures. By the third exhibition (held in autumn 1817) only one sixth of the three hundred exhibits were by living artists.5 This caused further disgruntlement amongst artists who needed to expand their clientele by publicly exhibiting their work. The National Advocate (12 Sept. 1817) criticised the Academy’s “misrule and mismanagement”, with the aim of pointing out what reforms were needed, but little was resolved. The disaffected artists, including Morse and Dunlap, eventually set up an independent drawing academy in 1825 which became the National Academy of Design and triumphed over the AAFA. A similar situation existed in Philadelphia, where the directors were inclined to run the Academy as a museum of art exemplifying good taste, enhancing the cultural standing of both Philadelphia and the United States (Schreiber 1980, 331–350).6 The PAFA acted as an exclusive club for its members where they could exhibit their collections but they did not help 4

It stagnated from 1805 and was re-launched in 1816. Shiels exhibited at the AAFA in 1817 and 1818, receiving mixed but generally positive critique in The National Advocate. 6 Only two artists were on the board, but they could not substantially influence its direction: this did not change over the next forty years. 5

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promote living artists who desperately needed to sell their art and earn a living, as Dunlap wrote: “It is an Academy only in name” (Dunlap, 1969 (1834), I: 422). The Society of Artists of the United States was formed by 110 artists in 1810 and held their own exhibitions.7 They obtained a voice in the running of PAFA by purchasing $2000 worth of stock, but did not receive what they had been promised. Relations between the two institutions became increasingly strained, and by 1820 the artists listed their grievances in a memorial. PAFA’s board acted in exactly the same way as the Royal Institution in Edinburgh (see below): responding to the artists that they were not allowed any say in the business of the Academy, and implying that they were incapable of managing their own affairs (Ibid.). The situation rumbled on until the 1830s when minor concessions from the board tipped the balance and the Society of Artists became less antagonistic (Nygren 1971; Schreiber 1980). Shiels would have become intimately aware of both situations at the AAFA and PAFA during his time in the United States. The knowledge he gained, namely that “amateurs” should not direct an academy for professional artists (assuming it was to function like the Royal Academy), paved the way for how Shiels acted during both his time in Charleston and on his return to Scotland. In addition to the AAFA's problems, an economic crisis began in 1819 which led to a full-scale depression with widespread unemployment and poverty lasting until 1825. Given these harsh economic circumstances, the purchase and commissioning of works of art was a low priority for most potential patrons, thus artists really struggled. Therefore, it is not surprising that most artists, including Shiels, criss-crossed the country in search of patronage.

Charleston The lack of generalised public support for art and artists combined with the Academy’s disagreements, led to Shiels leaving New York to try his luck further south. He was also lured by reports of Morse being overwhelmed by portraiture commissions in Charleston, South Carolina. In 1820, Charleston was the sixth largest city in the USA, and one of the wealthiest (McInnis 2005, 8).8 Its predominantly agrarian-based economy was dependent upon slaves. In spite of the American Revolution, Charleston’s white ruling classes uniquely formed an aristocracy inspired 7

Renamed as The Colombian Society of Artists in 1814. In 1790 Charleston was the fourth largest city in America; by 1830 it was the sixth largest.

8

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by British cultural traditions. Educating their sons in Britain, they constructed classical mansions on their plantations and grand townhouses in Charleston, creating a privileged, sophisticated lifestyle (Fig.10-2). A large middle class was also present in the city and across the state which included, as the lawyer and artist Charles Fraser (1782–1860) recalled: “many English and Scotch merchants permanently settled amongst us, with whose success Charleston was, in a great measure, identified” (Fraser 1969 (1854), 12). However, as McInnis has stated (2005, 28): “the top 4 per cent of the population controlled more than 50 per cent of the city’s wealth, while the bottom half of free society possessed no wealth whatsoever.”

Fig.10-2 Wellstood & Peters after John William Hill, View of Charleston, 1855, engraving. © The Philadelphia Print Shop Ltd.

Shiels arrived in Charleston for the first time on the 3 February 1819 (The Courier, 4 Feb. 1819) and met with quick success as he was one of the few academically trained artists working there. He returned for the following four years from late autumn to early summer, when the planter aristocracy was in town.9 Whilst Morse had creamed off the most lucrative high society portrait commissions—thanks to his early arrival and family 9

Shiels returned to the north, including New York, during the rest of the year, but the full extent of his movements is still to be discovered.

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connections—Shiels found work amongst the middle class. His clients included Mrs George MacCauley, the wife of a city commissioner, and James Louis Petigru, Attorney General of South Carolina, amongst many others (SCHS, A.W. Rutledge Papers, boxes 23 & 53). Furthermore, Dunlap (1969 (1930), II, 527) recorded on the 19 April 1820 that, “Shields [sic] [had] a great deal” to do. The fact that Shiels returned repeatedly strongly indicates his success in the city and possibly further afield.

The South Carolina Academy of Fine Arts Shiels, Morse, John S. Cogdell,10 and several other artists and amateurs founded the South Carolina Academy of Fine Arts (SCAFA) in January 1821.11 Their objectives were to hold exhibitions, lectures, and schools, with facilities and training for artists. The House of Representatives granted SCAFA a Charter in December 1821. Unlike its northern counterparts, SCAFA was organised on the same lines as the Royal Academy in London; it was led and directed by artists, rather than wealthy individuals and patrons. This action demonstrated both the artists’ wish for independence and their professional capability. Although Joel R. Poinsett, a leading member of Charleston’s aristocracy, was President of the Academy, his political commitments did not allow him much time to support the new institution. As potentially powerful patrons were not asked at the outset to support the Academy through board appointments, some in turn then possibly ignored and ostracised the professional (and lower class) artists for their temerity in challenging the social hierarchy. Thus the Academy and its fortunes were hampered from the start by a lack of support from the wealthy elite (McInnis 2005, 135–150). This issue was of such concern that Stephen Elliot (temporary President of SCAFA) wrote to Poinsett (7 Jan. 1822): “We can only look forward to months, perhaps years of embarrassment” (Elliot 1935, 198). Financing the building of the Academy, relocating it partly built, and the deepening effects of the severe economic recession caused further problems. Nevertheless, following Morse’s departure from Charleston for good in April 1821, Shiels, as a director of SCAFA, played a major role in 10

Cogdell was a Charlestonian lawyer, amateur artist, and Comptroller General of South Carolina (Rutledge 1949, 136-7, 144-5). 11 The other founding Directors were; J. B. White a professional lawyer/amateur artist, William Jay, an English Neoclassical architect, Joshua Canter, a Danish artist and art teacher, Charles C. Wright, a die-sinker, James Wood and Charles Simmons, engravers. Cogdell also acted as Secretary and Treasurer.

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planning and organising the first two exhibitions of the Academy and he was effectively running it for two years. Under Shiels’ management, the first exhibition (held in 1822) contained over 150 works of art by Old Masters, contemporary professional artists, and a few amateurs (Salvesen Murrell 2013b, 6–8). During its twelve week run, The Charleston Courier (17 Apr. 1822) was able to remark: The Academy of Fine Arts is growing in favour, and additional contributions grace its collection, manifesting an increased interest in its welfare. It is becoming a fashionable resort and topic of conversation.

Furthermore, a letter to the editor (25 May 1822) commented: The present exhibition is so far superior to what I had expected to be produced in this city, I hold it but justice to those who are directing the Academy, to have this publicly declared; for I know many well-disposed to the management of the Academy, who had doubted of any success as to a collection.

These quotes demonstrate that Shiels and his colleagues managed to turn around the dismissive attitudes of the highly influential elite by creating an impressive exhibition having secured high quality loans from artists across the USA and local collections. Shiels also solicited works of art for the permanent collection and received gifts of portraits from the British artists Henry Raeburn, Martin Archer Shee, and George Watson, who were in turn elected Honorary Members (Salvesen Murrell 2013a, 2013b). The second exhibition of the SCAFA, held in 1823, was equally successful, with half of the 110 exhibits by contemporary artists—a much higher proportion than the AAFA and the PAFA achieved. In this way, SCAFA foreshadowed the Scottish Academy which focused entirely upon contemporary art. Furthermore, both the 1822 and 1823 exhibitions attracted at least 1500 visitors apiece, a figure which matched the visitor statistics of the most successful show ever held by the AAFA (in 1816; Cowdrey 1953, 4). However, during the establishment of SCAFA, the economic recession had deepened further, and the value of the land and slaves which the planters had invested in at their peak crashed. This led to many estates being broken up. Given these circumstances it is hardly surprising that the exhibitors found their works were not snapped up; similarly, commissions dried up.

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In November 1823, Shiels travelled south to Savannah, Georgia where he worked for around six months before trying his luck further up the eastern seaboard. The Academy faltered after Shiels left Charleston; its exhibitions shrank and were intermittently held until 1828 and its collection was dispersed from 1830 to 1833 (McInnis 2005, 146–147).

Edinburgh Whilst the United States struggled in the first half of the 1820s, Britain’s economy began to boom, which probably encouraged Shiels to return to Scotland by 1826. By this time, the Royal Institution for the Promotion of the Fine Arts (RI) had been established in Edinburgh for seven years. It provided the only public fine art exhibition venue in Scotland in its brand new building at the foot of the Mound (Fig.10-3).12

Fig.10-3 A. Cruse, after Thomas H. Shepherd, The Royal Institution, Edinburgh, 1829, engraving.

Aristocrats and wealthy gentlemen who paid £50 for the privilege of membership founded the Institution: artists were not allowed to become members (Salvesen Murrell 2013a, 114–116). Like the AAFA and PAFA in America, the RI focused upon the needs and interests of its gentlemen members and predominantly exhibited Old Masters. Thus, in common 12

The Glasgow Dilettanti Society began holding exhibitions in 1828.

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with many of their American colleagues, artists in Scotland had no say in how the exhibitions were organised and displayed, or the running of the Institution. Artists struggled to develop a wider circle of patrons without their contemporary art being exhibited. Minor disagreements from 1822 led to an attempted boycott by some artists in 1824 (Forbes 2000, 86– 101). The Scotsman (8 April 1826) openly criticised the RI for its tendency to act as an exclusive private club. The artists’ desire to have artistic autonomy without authoritarian control led to the founding of the Scottish Academy (SA) on the 27 May 1826 by twenty-four artists, Shiels being one of the first elected. However, nine hurriedly withdrew from the “radical” Academy, fearful of losing patronage from the Institution’s members who, within the limited art market of the time, effectively operated a closed shop. Of those left, a small minority actually worked hard on the Academy’s behalf.13 Whilst Thomas Hamilton, Treasurer, and William Nicholson, Secretary, are noted for taking charge of the Academy affairs, most of their colleagues’ efforts have had little acknowledgement, particularly Shiels who spent a month each year (for four years) helping organise and hang the exhibitions, and served as a Council member. Furthermore, Shiels, acting as an unofficial agent, spent much of his time visiting artistic colleagues and groups in person in London, Norfolk, Northumbria, and Berwickshire, gently and genially urging them to exhibit in Edinburgh.14 He also supported his fellow artists through friendship and financial loans (Salvesen Murrell 2013a, Chapter 4). His persuasive powers led to an annual increase in exhibitors from outwith Scotland which contributed greatly to the success of the exhibitions over those at the RI, and generated support via donations both in cash and in kind.15

The “radical” exhibitors The first three Academy exhibitions (mounted annually from 1827) were held in the face of adversity. The Scottish Academicians were derided as “radicals” by some opponents within the Institution (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 4 Sept. 1829) as Nicholson, retrospectively described: 13

Founding Academicians were: John Ewbank, Patrick Gibson, Thomas Hamilton, Samuel Joseph, William Nicholson, William Shiels, James Stevenson, John Syme, Patrick Syme, George Watson, William Smellie Watson, plus fourteen associates. 14 Such as the Norwich Society of Artists and Society of British Artists. 15 Shiels persuaded others such as Sir John Soane to subscribe to the SA.

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The most inexcusable attempts were made to oppress the artists by questioning their rights and even doubting their respectability to manage their own affairs; [with] these circumstances it became a point of honour with the members to persevere with the academy and maintain the independence of the profession… (RSA Archives, Council Minutes, 2 May 1836, letter from Nicholson). 16

In this respect, the Scottish Academicians and the artists trying to exhibit at the AAFA and PAFA were subject to similar treatment by those holding the reins of power through wealth, privilege, or rank. Shiels, driven by his American experiences, advised and supported his colleagues in Edinburgh. For instance, he understood the necessity and value of maintaining cordial relations with patrons, thus he advised distancing themselves from squabbles with the artists still associated with the RI, writing: I would wish of all things the least contact with the mound. It seems to me from the beginning the little spirits of it has wished it that by coming in contact we maybe irritate the gentlemen of Scotland. When everyone must see that is by the support of the wealthy alone that we can stand (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 20 Apr. 1828).

In their first exhibition, the SA managed to attract 67 artists and 258 works of art, which was a good first attempt compared to 95 artists contributing 279 works to the RI. Despite the opposition from those associated with the RI, the SA received a welcome morale boost from artists further afield, in particular from Thomas Lawrence, President of the Royal Academy, who, as Shiels reported to the SA Council, felt that the SA should succeed over the Institution. Shiels also reported that “all the artists in London” felt that the SA’s exhibition was “the best” (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 3 Nov. 1827). With their resolve thus strengthened, the Academicians went on to mount their second exhibition. This time, the SA succeeded in outdoing the RI both in terms of numbers of artists exhibiting (104 versus 93) and in exhibits (324 versus 289). More importantly, The New Scots Magazine (30 Nov. 1829, 334) recorded that the exhibition: …was opened with still more flattering prospects. It was evident, indeed, that extraordinary exertions had been made, to present to the public a

16

Nicholson had been one of the prime movers in the lead up to the formation of the SA.

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Over a quarter of the Academy’s exhibits were contributed by artists outside Scotland, sourced largely by Shiels and a few colleagues. By contrast, just 7 per cent of the Institution’s exhibits came from artists based outside Scotland. This was despite the Institution having written to artists in England inviting their contributions. Thus Shiels had induced artists to support their brethren’s own professional organisation over the patrician controlled RI. Shiels noted to Nicholson (RSA Archives, 20 April 1828) that: All that the exhibitors would wish is that they would sell their pictures and their pictures be seen. And everyone would wish to support the artists before any other body whatsoever.

Shiels secured works from John Constable, John Crome, Francis Danby, William Etty, William Linton, John Martin, and Sir John Soane, just to name a few.17 Sometimes, however, the promised exhibits did not work out, as works were sold or substituted prior to the exhibition. It was not an easy task, especially with Edinburgh’s poor art market resulting in few sales compared to the roaring trade in London (Hubbard 1937, 13).18 The London and Norwich artists’ support was only guaranteed when being coaxed, jollied and reminded by Shiels and his friends. However, when Shiels was away, Alexander Fraser for one, found it hard to persuade others, writing to George Watson: “I have often wished for the assistance of our worthy friend Shiels had he been in London, I feel would have done more…” (RSA Archives, 15 Jan. 1829). Many artists were fearful of jeopardising the patronage they had either already secured or hoped to secure from the RI patrons and members. Exhibitors at the SA were branded as “Radicals”, and this intimidated some artists from exhibiting. Obtaining renowned artists’ support, and indeed as many artists’ support as possible was critical, as Shiels wrote to Nicholson (RSA Archives, 29 April 1828):

17

Danby’s The Upas, or Poison-Tree, in the Island of Java (c.1820, V&A Museum) was exhibited at the SA (1828, no. 135) see: http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/paintings/the-upas-or-poison-tree-in-theisland-of-java-31247 18 For instance, sales at the Society of British Artists first five years (1824-1828) totalled over £12,000.

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Without very powerful support we cannot do. The [Institution] may get visitors and still have the worst pictures but it is evident that if we are second we must sink altogether.

Despite this support, the small number of sales and low prices achieved at the SA’s 1828 exhibition19 made Shiels’ job on his return to London “rather uphill work … Perseverance however removes mountains” (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 9 April 1828). His efforts were made “irksome” by John Francis Williams coming to London for a week in May: “blowing like a porpoise” about the sale of £1000 worth of pictures at the Mound (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 12 May 1828). The RI’s secretary, Francis Cameron, continued to undermine the SA by writing to London artists including John Henning and John Wilson, encouraging them to exhibit there: …stating the great sales of the Inst'n. And by what I could learn calling us Radicall [sic]. They are both much offended at this liberty and it has been the reverse effect from what was intended… (RSA Archives, Shiels to Nicholson, 9 April 1828).

Henning and Wilson never exhibited at the RI, but liberally supported the SA respectively with seven sculptures (1827–29) and twenty-one paintings (1827–31).20 Shiels’ and his colleagues’ success in persuading artists in London to exhibit in Edinburgh at the Scottish Academy was noted by The New Scots Magazine (30 Nov. 1829, 334): Here we cannot omit to offer the tribute which is justly due to many Scotch artists resident in London, who no sooner became acquainted with the attempt which was making to place the Fine Arts on a proper footing in their native country, than they resolved to afford their utmost support in carrying the scheme into effect. How efficient has been their assistance, let the Exhibitions of the Academy attest! What a striking and humiliating contrast does this generous conduct afford to that of the numerous resident artists, most of whom honoured the exertions of the Academicians with a sneer. We should deem ourselves inexcusable if we did not likewise notice, in this place, the approbation and support which the Academy has uniformly received from many English artists of the highest distinction. It is sufficient to name an Etty, a Martin, and a Linton (Fig.10-4).

19

The financial records are ad hoc, even up to 1860, but by all accounts (RSA records and artists’ letters) not many paintings sold. 20 See, for example: http://www.bbc.co.uk/arts/yourpaintings/paintings/a-ferryboat-on-the-maas-214394

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nton, A City off Ancient Greecce with the Fig.10-4 Apppleton J. W. aftter William Lin return of a victorious arrmament. Thee New York Public Librarry Digital Collections.

A turning g point The thirdd exhibition held h in 1829 proved p to be thhe greatest su uccess yet for the Scottish Academ my, and a turn ning point. Itt was describ bed as an exquisite dissplay with 3662 works of arrt contributedd by 144 artistts, over a third of whoom came from m outside Scotland (contribuuting 35 per cent of the exhibits).21 T This was an overwhelming show of suppport for the ind dependent Academy w which demonsttrated how weell-regarded Shhiels was by his h fellow artists and how convinccing his disccussions had been to indu uce their backing. Mooreover, the range r of high h quality exhib ibits also conffirmed to the public aand press that not only was the Acadeemy’s exhibitiion again superior to tthe Institutionn’s, but also that t the Acaddemicians’ pro ofessional

21

By compaarison, just 866 artists exhibiited at the RII. Shiels may also have persuaded arttists within Scotland to send to o the SA insteadd of the RI, butt given the verbal nature of most of theiir activities, it iss not possible too assess this fullly.

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skills were evident for all to see.22 For the artists still attached to the RI, this was disconcerting and frustrating and they were noted as being “at loggerheads with their masters” (RSA Archives, Fraser to Nicholson, 21 Feb. 1829). The success of the SA’s exhibitions ultimately led to the artists at the RI wanting to join the SA, and a union was brought about by John Hope, Solicitor General for Scotland, and Henry Cockburn, a leading advocate in Edinburgh, who respectively represented the SA and the artists attached to the RI. Their legal agreement, known as the Hope-Cockburn Award, enabled 24 artists to become Academicians in July 1829. This influx was not without its initial difficulties, but ultimately led to the Academy becoming a much stronger and more representative organisation. Following the union, the support of their southern colleagues was not deemed necessary, and Academy exhibitors were overwhelmingly (90 per cent plus) Scottish (Salvesen Murrell 2014–15, 45). Thus Shiels’ efforts transformed the Academy’s early exhibitions and demonstrated his determination to succeed against the difficult odds facing the independent Academy. To carefully go against the RI, by persuading his professional brethren south of the border to exhibit at the SA, was a clever, time-consuming, and difficult task. But Shiels’ success in this meant that between 1827 and 1829 at least 237 additional works of art came from these artists. Without Shiels’ and Nicholson’s efforts in particular, it is doubtful if the Academy would have continued for much more than its first year, given the unwillingness of many of their colleagues to sacrifice their time and income for what became the common good in a united, professional organisation. To return to the United States, it is notable that the SA awarded Honorary Membership to Thomas Sully and Samuel Morse in 1827 and 1828 respectively. These awards, which manifested equal status to the individuals involved and the institutions they represented, must have, at least in part, been prompted by Shiels’ in-depth knowledge of the arts in America. They also indicate that the Academy’s early cultural and political ambitions were international in scope. However, after the union the primary focus of the Academy was the promotion of its own Academicians and the pursuit of a charter; it thus became more introverted. Shiels continued to be involved in the SA’s affairs, including assisting with the progress of the much-desired Royal Charter (eventually granted in 1837), but on a more sporadic basis for the rest of his life 22 Over £1000 worth of works of art were sold at this SA exhibition, and artists also received many commissions.

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(Salvesen Murrell 2013a, 175–185). Having delivered early success to the SA, Shiels needed to focus upon his own career (Fig.10-5).

Fig.10-5 William Shiels, The Poultry Buyer, c.1829 (possibly exhibited under the title A Hard Bargain, RSA, 1846, no.29), oil on canvas, 62 x 74.5 cm. Private collection © The Fine Art Society, Edinburgh.

Somewhat ironically, having taken the risk of travelling to the United States as an economic migrant and initially succeeding in New York with commissions overwhelming him, Shiels then, notwithstanding obvious repeated success in Charleston, had to survive another economic depression. In spite of these circumstances, he helped deliver two very successful exhibitions at the Academy he co-founded and managed. Conversely, back in his native country, an economic boom began which seems to have prompted his return to Scotland, full of ideas and experiences that proved to be one of the main reasons that the new Scottish Academy succeeded against the odds. Grit and determination, dealing carefully with troublesome individuals and elitist attitudes, plus a good dose of American values—equality, independence, freedom, and

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democracy—instilled in Shiels the desire and skills to co-found, support, and influence the SA into a successful institution.

Bibliography Primary Sources, Archives and Manuscripts National Archives of Scotland; Scottish Record Office, Edinburgh NG 3: Royal Institution records. GD492/226 Letter of William Shiels to W. B. Johnston, 1 Dec. 1856 Royal Scottish Academy Archives, Edinburgh Manuscript collection: artists’ letters including those written by; John B. Come, Charles Deane, Samuel Drummond, John W. Ewbank, Alexander Fraser, Patrick Gibson, Thomas S. Good, Thomas Hamilton, George Harvey, John Henning, Samuel Joseph, William Kidd, John Linnell, Horatio McCulloch, Lawrence MacDonald, William Nicholson, Henry P. Parker, Henry J. Pidding, David Roberts, William Shiels, George Simson, William Simson, Sir John Soane, James Stark, William Trotter, George Watson, David Wilkie, and John (Jock) Wilson. Royal Institution Exhibition Catalogues (Royal) Scottish Academy Cash Book No.1 (1827–1850) (Royal) Scottish Academy Council Minute Books (1826–1857) (Royal) Scottish Academy Exhibition Catalogues (1827–1856) (Royal) Scottish Academy Letterbooks (to 1857) South Carolina Historical Society, Charleston, SC, USA 34/0127 John S. Cogdell (1778–1847): Notebook (1816–1829) 0404.00 Anna Wells Rutledge (1907–1996): Papers 1886–1996

Electronic Resources “Adams Family Papers.” Accessed May 24 2015. http://www.masshist.org/digitaladams/ “John Quincy Adams Diary.”Accessed May 24 2015. http://www.masshist.org/qadiaries “Samuel F. B. Morse Papers.” Accessed October 13 2014. http://memory.loc.gov/ammem/sfbmhtml/sfbmhome.html

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Newspapers City Gazette and Daily Advertiser. Charleston New York Courier. New York New York Herald. New York The Courier. Charleston The National Advocate. New York The News Scots Magazine. Edinburgh The NewYork Colombian. New York The New York Daily Advertiser. New York The Scotsman. Edinburgh The Times. Charleston

Secondary sources Adams, Charles F. 1874–77. Memoirs of John Quincy Adams. 4 vols. Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott. Cosentino, Andrew. 1977. The Paintings of Charles Bird King. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Cowdrey, Mary B. and Theodore Sizer. 1953. American Academy of Fine Arts and the American Art Union. New York: New York Historical Society. Dunlap, William. 1969 (1834). A History of the Rise and Progress of the Arts of Design in the United States. 2 vols. New York: Dover. —. 1969 [1930]. The Diary of William Dunlap, 1766–1839. 2 vols. New York: B. Blom. Evans, Dorina. 1980. Benjamin West and his American Students. Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution. Forbes, Duncan. 1996. “Artists, Patrons and the Power of Association: The Emergence of a Bourgeois Artistic Field in Edinburgh, c. 1775– c.1840”. PhD diss., University of St Andrews. —. 2000. “Private Advantage and Public Feeling: The Struggle for Academic Legitimacy in Edinburgh in the 1820s”, in Art and the Academy in the Nineteenth Century, edited by Colin Trodd and Rafael Cardoso Denis, 86–101. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Fraser, Charles. 1969 [1834]. My Reminiscences of Charleston. Charleston: Carolina Art Association. Gibbs, Linda J. 1994. 150 years of American Painting, 1794–1944. Salt Lake City: Brigham Young University.

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Gordon, Esme and Royal Scottish Academy. 1976. The Royal Scottish Academy of Painting, Sculpture and Architecture: 1826–1976. Edinburgh: Skilton. Harvey, George. 1873. Notes of the Early History of the Royal Scottish Academy, Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas. Hubbard, Hesketh. 1937. An Outline History of the Royal Society of British Artists. Part 1. London: The Royal Society of British Artists Art Club. Hulme, Thomas. 1817. Hints to Emigrants. Liverpool: E. Rushton. Jaffe, David. 1993. “The Age of Democratic Portraiture”, in Old Sturbridge Village. Meet Your Neighbours: New England Portraits, Painters and Society, 1790–1850. Amherst, MA: Old Sturbridge Village. McInnis, Maurie D. 2005. The Politics of Taste in Antebellum Charleston. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina. Miller, Lillian B. 1966. Patrons and Patriotism: The Encouragement of the Fine Arts in the United States, 1790–1860. Chicago & London: University of Chicago Press. Mills, Robert. 1826. Statistics of South Carolina, Including a View of its Natural, Civil, and Military History, General and Particular. Charleston: Hurlbut and Lloyd. Moltke-Hansen, David, ed. 1979. Art in the Lives of South Carolinians: Nineteenth-Century Chapters. Charleston: Carolina Art Association. Nygren, Edward J. 1971. “The First Art Schools at the Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts.” Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography 95: 221–238. Rinder, Frank and William D. McKay. 1917; 1975. The Royal Scottish Academy, 1826–1916 : A Complete List of the Exhibited Works by Raeburn and by Academicians, Associates and Hon. Members, Giving Details of those Works in Public Galleries. Bath: Kingsmead. Rippy, Fred J. 1935. Joel R. Poinsett, Versatile American. Durham, N.C.: Duke University. Rutledge, Anna Wells. 1949. Artists in the life of Charleston, through Colony and State, from Restoration to Reconstruction. Columbia: University of South Carolina. Salvesen, Fiona V. 2009. “Shiels, William (1783–1857).” Accessed May 4 2015. http://www.oxforddnb.com/index/101077015/William-Shiels Salvesen Murrell, Fiona V. 2013a. “William Shiels RSA (1783–1857): Identity, Scientific Enquiry, and the Development of Art Institutions and Museums in Britain and North America.” PhD diss., University of Aberdeen.

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—. 2013b. “‘A Paradise of Riches’: William Shiels' Contribution to the Arts in Charleston, 1819–1824.” The British Art Journal XIV: 2: 2–13. —. 2014–15. “‘So Much Talk About Old Musty Painters’: Insights into the Scottish Art World and its London Connections in the Early Nineteenth Century.” The Journal of the Scottish Society for Art History 19: 37–48. Schreiber, Lee, L. 1980. “The Academy: School for Artists or Private Art Club?” Pennsylvania History 47:4: 331–50. Soden, Joanna. 2006. “Tradition, Evolution, Opportunism: The Role of the Royal Scottish Academy in Art Education, 1826–1910.” PhD diss., University of Aberdeen. Staiti, Paul J. 1989. Samuel F. B. Morse. New York: Cambridge University Press.

CHAPTER ELEVEN MIGRATING OBJECTS: JOHN HENRY FOLEY AND EMPIRE FINTAN CULLEN

The collection of essays about the afterlives of South Asian monuments edited by Deborah Cherry published in 2013 has brought academic attention to the “how, where, when and why monuments have been remodelled, re-used, re-sited, re-made, cast aside, destroyed or abandoned to accommodate changing political and social climates” (Cherry 2013, 1). John Henry Foley’s equestrian monument to James Outram unveiled in Calcutta (now Kolkata) in 1874 is one such object deserving investigation (Fig.11-1). While it once graced the centre of the capital of West Bengal, a metropolis that Lord Curzon in 1903 saw as “the second city to London in the entire British Empire” (Dutta 2003, 129), the statue is now shrouded by trees in a corner of the gardens surrounding Curzon’s immense Victoria Memorial. While it once marked the intersection of Chowringhee Road and Park Street on the borders of the city’s great Maidan, and defiantly proclaimed British power in post-rebellion India, the monument now provides a plinth around which young lovers gather. The removal and new life of Foley’s statue has been recorded, but this chapter will investigate even earlier migratory occurrences regarding this monument, its creation by an Irish immigrant to London and that artist and his commissioners’ imposition of a Western artistic style on a site in West Bengal (Steegles and Barnes 2011, 102; Guha-Thakurta 2011, 82-4). Like many Irishmen, the nineteenth century, sculptor John Henry Foley (1818–74) greatly benefited from working in London at the heart of the British Empire. Over the years, Foley received top commissions from the City of London in the form of a colossal marble of Caractacus, a Celtic king of c. 50 CE for the Mansion House which was completed in 1857; the Albert Memorial, London, a state commission on which he worked in the 1860s–70s, while for his native city of Dublin, Foley produced the Daniel O’Connell monument between 1866–74. Over these years, Foley was also

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working on the Outram memorial for far-off Calcutta in India. This was, in many ways, to be one of his most successful bronzes. Foley had become a Royal Academician in 1858, and was eventually buried in St Paul’s Cathedral, London, in 1874, the first Irish artist to be buried there since the painter James Barry in 1806 (Murphy 2010, chapter 5; Murphy 2014).

Fig.11-1 John Henry Foley, Outram monument, 1874, Calcutta, from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–76 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, frontispiece).

Given that Foley was seen as a London artist, it came as quite a shock to Dublin when in 1867 he was chosen to produce that city’s monument to Daniel O’Connell (which still stands on Dublin’s O’Connell Street). Foley’s depiction of the nationalist hero at the apex of a tiered arrangement

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of four winged Victories, a figure of Erin and a representative group of nineteenth-century Irish men and women in contemporary costume is one of the great set pieces of public sculpture in Ireland. It celebrates the man, makes reference to religion, education, civic reform and a host of relevant O’Connellite issues, all within a highly detailed figurative language. At the same time, the artistic vocabulary is conservative. Wide of girth and looking tired, O’Connell, high on his pedestal, is recognizably himself. Yet such realism is juxtaposed by the winged allegories and the multitude of types on the circumference of the drum. Although Dublin objected to a London-based artist, and unionists objected to a monument to the Liberator of Roman Catholicism, what the city got was a standard piece of European celebratory sculpture. What Dublin also got, and what Calcutta got around the same time, were huge bronze pieces of an imposed traditional European style (Boime 1987, 5). By migrating to London from Ireland, Foley’s art became less about the local and more about the nation (the greater United Kingdom), but in then going on to create art for India, Foley’s work became global. In migrating to London, his subject matter became decidedly imperial while the art objects themselves became monuments of empire, regardless of whether they represented a British officer or an Irish politician. Foley was producing art for the world, not just for his hometown (Dublin) or his adopted town (London), but it was a world art that was firmly rooted in the European tradition. In 1861, John Foley was commissioned by the British government for the bronze monument of James Outram, a great Raj administrator and military leader for erection in Calcutta (Tucker 1879). Foley’s huge equestrian monument was eventually unveiled in 1874 on the Maidan in central Calcutta yet Foley himself never actually travelled to the Subcontinent (Fig.11-2). The artist’s busy schedule as a sculptor and growing improvements in the transportation of heavy art objects—in this case from London to Calcutta—made such a visit unnecessary (Murphy 2010, chapter 5; Murphy 2014 and Hamilton 2014, Chapter 5). Artistically, what we see in Foley’s Outram is European high art equestrian statuary erected in an altogether alien setting through the example of one nineteenth century British imperial monument. In all of this, given that the theme of this volume is art, artists and migration, there is the added irony in that the Dublin-born Foley was himself a migrant, who had lived in London from the age of sixteen and became a major figure in the Victorian art world (Read 1982; Murphy 2010; Murphy 2014).

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Fig.11-2 The Maidan, Calcutta, photograph from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–76 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, opposite 38).

Commissioned by the Outram Testimonial Fund, Foley was to produce one of the most important and prominent nineteenth century equestrian statues of the British Raj. Paid for by public subscription, Foley’s huge bronze statue of Sir James Outram was placed in the centre of Calcutta on a stone pedestal measuring almost three metres in height. The bronze statue of “The Bayard of the East” as Outram was known, earned Foley a huge fee of £3,500 which was paid in instalments although the artist died at the age of fifty-six, two months after the unveiling (Tucker 1879, 40). Outram has been described by the military historian, Richard Holmes as “[p]erhaps the greatest British general to serve in India” (Holmes 2005, 185) and most particularly he had played a prominent role in the suppression of the Sepoy Rebellion of 1857–58. Foley worked for more than a decade on the Outram commission, which began with a marble bust that was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1861 (a statue of Outram by Foley is in Westminster Abbey, while a version of the bust is in Victoria Memorial Hall in Calcutta) and at the Great International Exhibition in London in 1862. In time, the Government

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of India supplied eleven tons of gunmetal for the casting, while the finished product was shown in London near the Athenaeum Club prior to being shipped to India. Eventually, the Outram monument was seen as Foley’s greatest work; a Calcutta newspaper commented on its having been “bestowed [with] an amount of care and thought …which he has never given to any former work” (Tucker 1879, 40). Such a view regarding the aesthetic quality of Foley’s statue in Calcutta was echoed by Lord Napier, governor of Madras (now Chennai), at the unveiling of the monument on the eve of Queen Victoria’s birthday in May 1874, when he commented on the value of the display of British statuary throughout India: India is rich in memorials of great men; it is a country that has offered a wide field for the glorious deeds of soldiers, and a still wider and loftier one for civil administrators who have laid foundations of justice, order, and education, which have raised it to a state of civilisation that has no parallel in its earlier history. If ever we are asked, “What has Great Britain done for India,” we may point with pride to these monuments, and to hundreds of humbler ones spread over the land, and say that our country has given to India, freely, of her wisest, bravest, and best (Tucker 1879, 35)!

As seen from the intersection of two busy Calcutta streets, and silhouetted against the green open ground of the Maidan and with its great height, in situ, Foley’s equestrian statue must have been an impressive sight. The dramatic location of the statue on the edge of a great city park is brought home to us in contemporaneous photographs and prints (Fig.112), but the fact that the published history of the Outram Testimonial Fund (1879) also reproduces a lithograph (Fig.11-3) of the actual configuration of the military personnel at the unveiling ceremony on the 23 May 1874 informs us about the role of spectacle and public display in British India (Tucker 1879, opposite 33). An examination of the ground plan for the unveiling of the Outram memorial highlights the imperial fascination with exactitude and choreography which is a testimony to what Bernard S. Cohn has referred to as the Raj’s “construction of a ritual idiom” (Cohn 1984, 165). In the print, we see how the Testimonial Committee and the guard of honour stood on either side of the memorial, the viceroy’s bodyguard was arranged outside the Bengal United Service Club while various regimental groups lined the roadside. Such detail and planning echoes the nature of post-1857 British rule in India leading one to again quote Cohn, who when discussing the British appropriation of the durbar and the specifics of the great Imperial Assemblage staged in Delhi in

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1877, speaks of “order and discipline, which was in their ideology part of the whole system of colonial control” (Cohn 1984, 198) In the light of Lord Napier’s comments at the unveiling of Foley’s statue, we could say that with the Outram monument the Irish sculptor furthered Britain’s sense of its positive benefits towards India. Foley was thus acquiescent in the portrayal of “the reclaimer of the wild races of Western India …the heroism of his character, his matchless self-denial, and his generous friendship” (Tucker 1879, 36–37). The pedestal inscription reads: SIR JAMES OUTRAM LIEUT.GENERAL G.C.B. &c. BARONET HIS LIFE WAS GIVEN TO INDIA: IN EARLY MANHOOD HE RECLAIMED WILD RACES BY WINNING THEIR HEARTS. GHAZNI, KELAT, THE INDIAN CAUCASUS, WITNESSED THE DARING DEEDS OF HIS PRIME.

PERSIA BROUGHT TO SUE FOR PEACE. LUCKNOW RELIEVED, DEFENDED AND RECOVERED WERE FIELDS OF HIS LATER GLORIES. FAITHFUL SERVANT OF ENGLAND, LARGE MINDED AND KINDLY RULER OF HER SUBJECTS ‘IN ALL THE TRUE KNIGHT’ “THE BAYARD OF THE EAST” BORN 29TH OF January 1803, DIED 11TH MARCH 1863 (Tucker 1879, 38).

In the bronze statue, Outram turns in his saddle and looks behind him, the direction of his gaze echoed by the upright tail of the stallion jutting out beyond the confines of the plinth. Meanwhile, the horse’s head is forcibly raised by Outram’s tight hold on the reins; its right front leg is also lifted while its open mouth creates a dramatic profile against the sky. A wonderful disjunction of forces is instantly created for the viewer as we are asked to look left and right. Such looking, when viewed against the open sky above the Maidan would have created a blunt, yet exciting, image of a victor. Years later, in his Dictionary of Irish Artists, Walter Strickland would confirm the monument’s artistic success by referring to it as containing “extraordinary vigour, originality and freshness of conception” as well as “a mastery of modelling hitherto unapproached” (Strickland 1969, 358–359). Here was an Irish artist who had succeeded at the heart of empire, but also one who did not forget his roots. While

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success in imperial London would continue for Foley until his death in 1874, in his will he bequeathed his original plaster models to the Royal Dublin Society, his original art school back in the 1830s (Murphy 2010, 113). This bequest included a bust of Outram (Turpin 1979, 112, 116).

Fig.11-3 Plan of unveiling ceremony of Outram monument, 23 May 1874, from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–76 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, opposite 33).

Yet a fundamental irony pervades Foley’s contribution to the Indian colonial experience. Writing about the Raj statues in Calcutta, Tapati Guha-Thakurta has argued that the removal of many of them to the gardens of the Victoria Memorial has “emptied [them] of [their] personhood of their colonial ruling status [and] … have made their unintended transition into becoming pure works of sculpture” (GuhaThakurta 2011, 82). Such a view is perfectly valid in a discussion of the role these Raj sculptures may play today but in the nineteenth century, and even up to the 1940s and the eventual arrival of independence for India, such statues as Foley’s Outram conveyed considerable power. In short, their historical significance must be studied. Writing of the Victoria Memorial Hall, and the post-Independence substitution of imperial

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statuary with images of indigenous Indian leaders, Nara Yani Gupta, has referred to Foley’s “fierce Outram” being replaced in Kolkata’s Maidan by “a gentle Gandhiji” and how, In 1949, The Nation (Calcutta) praised the Irish Republic for the alacrity with which it had removed the statues of the British. Within a year, Calcutta followed suit, taking the lead among Indian cities in substituting statues of Indian leaders for those of the British (Gupta 1997, 45–47).

In substituting a “gentle” aesthetic for a “fierce” one, the rationale for a fuller examination of Foley’s Outram is in order. For what we get in Foley’s monument are three types of cultural impositions: the imposition of a European style of art through the use of the equestrian monument; the imposition of a European artist, as no Indian artist was employed to do such a public commission; and the imposition of a very public celebration of a British victor in the heart of an Indian city. Turning firstly to the issue of style and the development of the equestrian monument in Western art, Foley’s piece follows a well-worn trail from antiquity through the Renaissance in representing his hero astride a bronze horse on a plinth. From Marcus Aurelius on the Capitoline in Rome (c. 175 CE) through Donatello’s Gattamelata in Padua (1440s) and Verrocchio’s Colleoni in Venice (1481), to Leonardo’s many drawings for a rearing horse, we can trace the history of the equestrian monument from three feet on the ground to raised front legs and the human figure in full contrapposto (Jardine and Brotton 2000, 132–185). A dominant leitmotif running throughout these centuries of image-making is that the ruler is high up on a plinth and as Leonardo experimented, there was a growing attempt to add drama and excitement to the image by depicting a rearing horse. The evolution of the equestrian monument is a European invention which carries with it the aura of dominance and power, and it would continue unabated through the sixteenth to nineteenth centuries in the work of Giambologna and Pietro Tacca (Henry IV, Paris, 1614), Étienne Maurice Falconet (Peter the Great, St Petersburg, 1770– 82,) and Christian Daniel Rauch (Frederick the Great, Berlin, 1830s) (Covi 1995; Avery 2008; Myssok 2008). What connects all of these monuments is their classical aesthetic, where the leader on a horse equals legitimacy. In utilising tried and tested European visual sources, Foley was producing an art that dissolved local boundaries and ignored local customs, cultures or identities, all so that the British presence in India would be enhanced. Such a world-view was expressed in many different ways. The Birmingham Journal of 1846 saw it as part of its task to educate its readers on matters colonial:

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All India from the Himalayas to the southern extremity of Ceylon, and from the Gulf of Cutch, on the West, to the Mouth of the Ganges, on the East, may be said to belong to England (Hall 2002, 275).

More recently Pankaj Mishra has suggested that: European subordination of Asia was not merely economic and political and military. It was also intellectual and moral and spiritual; a completely different kind of conquest than had been witnessed before, which left its victims resentful but also envious of their conquerors and, ultimately, eager to be initiated into the mysteries of their seemingly near-magical power (Mishra 2012, 45).

Equally, one could read the artistic language of the Foley monument as being part of a process of “turning” Indians into Europeans, or of making them cogs of the British Administration just as was done with the introduction of the railway, schools, and communication systems in many areas (Mishra 2012, 60). Writing more specifically of another of Foley’s three Calcutta statues, that of Sir Henry Hardinge from 1858 (formerly Government House, Calcutta, now in a private collection in the UK), the Art Journal of 1859 was of the opinion that: The statue is greatly admired, particularly by the natives, who have never seen anything approaching to it before. The Arab horse-dealers, with whom the love of the horse is a passion, and knowledge of their points of excellence a universal acquirement, are daily to be seen gazing at it. A more impressive admiration than that of these wild children of the desert, it is impossible to witness anywhere (Art Journal 1859, 259).

As a Royal Academician, Foley enjoyed royal and establishment approval. The idea of a native artist was not even entertained. The modello for the Outram monument, for example, when exhibited at the RA in 1864 was described by the Art Journal as “the most spirited equestrian statue of our school” (Art Journal 1864, 314). Such statuary as Foley’s Outram and the two others he executed of British soldiers and administrators (the Hardinge mentioned above and one of Lord Canning, 1874, formerly outside Government House, Calcutta now in New Hospital Grounds, Police Lines, Barrackpore, West Bengal) added to Calcutta’s array of European art as well as to the city’s ordered aesthetic (Steegles and Barnes 2011, 89–91). By occupying a key space in the Maidan, an open space which kept the roads clear of encroachments, the Outram monument was highly visible. Given that art, architecture and

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town planning were all part of a greater control phenomenon in Calcutta, it is not surprising to read an architectural historian claim that Calcutta’s architecture “[created] a front … [of] wealth and power” while an art historian has spoken of it as a city of palaces which became also a “city of sculpture” (Nilsson 1968, 65; Groseclose 1995, 33). As a monument to victory and the power of the Raj, and by importing a London-based artist to realise such a visualisation, Foley’s Outram emphasises the fact that imperial art in India was the exclusive preserve of Europeans and not Indians. In addition, given Outram’s role in Indian events, and the “fierce” nature of the sitter’s representation, the statue was a post-mutiny visual statement of British superiority which was ostensibly military and little else. Combined with these issues, in choosing his aesthetic medium of the bronze equestrian statue, Foley was participating in a global hierarchy of cultural power while also participating in the furtherance of a world-wide Royal Academy-sponsored official imperial style. Joan Coutu sees the RA of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries as a kind of arbiter of style: its Committee of Taste created what she has referred to as a “bureaucratic monolith that the nineteenth-century British Empire would become” (Coutu 1998, 55). Statuary and empire can thus be argued to be hand in hand with political and military figures appearing all over the empire, from the UK itself including Ireland to Jamaica and India. With his equestrian statues in India, Foley was, of course, a major contributor to this phenomenon. Yet Foley was also active in contributing to this idea closer to home. In the 1840s and 1850s, Foley produced a number of statues for St Stephen’s Hall in the newly built Palace of Westminster in London (they represent the seventeenth century parliamentarians John Hampden (1847) and John Selden (1855) (Murphy 2010, 76–78). Throughout the next decade, other London-based Irish artists also benefitted from this new parliamentary decorative commission. Just a few corridors away, the Cork-born Daniel Maclise painted two huge frescoes for the Royal Gallery, which contain such victorious scenes as The Meeting of Wellington and Blucher, at La Belle Alliance, after the Battle of Waterloo and The Death of Nelson (Weston 2008, 232–243). The post-mutiny symbolism of Foley’s Outram is reactionary. We see a forceful, resilient figure on a rearing horse high on a plinth. It is also by the mid-nineteenth century, an old fashioned sculptural commemoration, and in the case of Foley, an example of a migrating object, by an Irish artist, produced in London for a park in Calcutta: a colossal bronze of a man on a horse in a well-worn European tradition, that is resoundingly imperialist. As Linda Colley has shown in Britons, a compelling tie

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between the invention of Britishness and mass allegiance was participation in the imperial enterprise (Colley 1992). This in many ways is the story of Ireland’s art from the seventeenth century to at least the mid-nineteenth century. It is a story of participating in an imperial enterprise. It is a story of artists migrating to work, live, create and what they left behind is a range of works which must be read in the context of a bigger society than the one they came from. Migration drives artists and we need to be more aware of its potency as opposed to endlessly wishing to pigeon hole artists in national contexts.

Bibliography Avery, Victoria. 2008. “Virtue, Valour, Victory - The Making and Meaning of Bronze, Equestrian Monuments (ca. 1440–c.1640).” In Praemium Virtutis III. Reiterstandbilder von der Antike bis zum Klassizismus, edited by Joachim Poeschke, Thomas Weigel and Britta Kusch-Arnhold, 199–233. Münster: Rhema. Boime, Albert. 1987. Hollow Icons. The Politics of Sculpture in Nineteenth-Century France. Kent, OH and London: The Kent State University Press. Cherry, Deborah. 2013. “The Afterlives of Monuments.” South Asian Studies 29: 1–14. Cohn, Bernard S. 1984. “Representing Authority in Victorian India.” In The Invention of Tradition, edited by Eric Hobsbawm and Terence Ranger, 165–209. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Colley, Linda. 1992. Britons. Forging the Nation 1707–1837. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Coutu, Joan. 1998. “The Rodney Monument in Jamaica and an Empire Coming of Age.” Sculpture Journal 2: 46–57. Covi, Dario A. 1995. “The Italian Renaissance and the Equestrian Monument.” In Leonardo da Vinci’s Sforza Monument Horse: The Art and the Engineering, edited by Diane Cole Ahl, 40–56. Bethlehem: Lehigh University Press and London: Associated University Press. Dutta, Krishna 2003. Calcutta: A Cultural and Literary History. Oxford: Signal. Groseclose, Barbara. 1995. British Sculpture and the Company Raj. Church Monuments and Public Statuary in Madras, Calcutta, and Bombay to 1858. Newark: University of Delaware Press; London: Associated University Presses. Guha-Thakurta, Tapati. 2011. “A view from Calcutta. The Nation’s Colonial and Postcolonial sculpture.” In British Sculpture in India.

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New views and old memories, edited by Mary Ann Steegles and Richard Barnes, 79–86. Kirstead, Norfolk: Frontier Publishing. Gupta, Nara Yani. 1997. “India and the European Cultural Inheritance: the Victorian Memorial Hall.” In The Victoria Memorial Hall Calcutta: conception, collections, conservation, edited by Philippa Vaughan, 37– 47. Mumbai: Marg Publications. Hall, Catherine. 2002. Civilising Subjects. Metropole and Colony in the English Imagination 1830–1867. Cambridge: Polity. Hamilton, James. 2014. A strange business: making art and money in Nineteenth-century Britain. London: Atlantic Books. Holmes, Richard. 2005. Sahib. The British Soldier in India 1750–1914. London: Harper Collins Publisher. Jardine, Lisa and Jerry Brotton. 2000. Global Interests. Renaissance Art between East and West. London: Reaktion. Mishra, Pankaj. 2012. From the Ruins of Empire. The Revolt against the West and the Remaking of Asia. London: Allen Lane. Murphy, Paula. 2010. Nineteenth-century Irish Sculpture. Native Genius Reaffirmed. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. —. 2014. “Foley, John Henry.” In Art and Architecture of Ireland III, edited by Paula Murphy, 120–124. Dublin, New Haven, London: Yale University Press. Myssok, Johannes. 2008. “Der Vertauschte Reiter – zum Standbild Napoleons für Neapel und seinem Schicksal.” In Praemium Virtutis III. Reiterstandbilder von der Antike bis zum Klassizismus, edited by Joachim Poeschke, Thomas Weigel and Britta Kusch-Arnhold, 293–324. Münster: Rhema. Nilsson, Sten. 1982. European Architecture in India, 1750–1850. London: Faber. Read, Benedict. 1982. Victorian Sculpture. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Steegles, Mary Ann and Richard Barnes. 2011. British Sculpture in India. New views and old memories. Kirstead, Norfolk: Frontier Publishing. Strickland, Walter. 1969. A Dictionary of Irish Artists. Shannon: Irish University Press. Tucker, W.R. 1879. A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–1876. Calcutta: Thacker, Spink, and Co. Turpin, John. 1979. “Catalogue of the sculpture of J.H. Foley.” Dublin Historical Record 32: 108–116. Weston, Nancy. 2008.“Daniel Maclise paints for the government: Analysing meaning in the Westminster murals.” In Daniel Maclise

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1806–1870. Romancing the Past, edited by Peter Murray, 232–243. Cork: Crawford Art Gallery.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Figures (Fig.) 1–1 Artist-Migration-Model. 1–2 Migration patterns of Hans Holbein the Younger (c. 1497–1543). 1–3 Migration patterns of Zanetto Bugatto († 1476). 1–4 Migration patterns of Anton Raphael Mengs (1728–79). 1–5 Migration patterns of Johann Heinrich Wilhelm Tischbein (1751– 1829). 1–6 Migration patterns of Giovanni Simonetti (1652–1716). 1–7 Migration patterns of Rosso Fiorentino (1494–1540). 1–8 Migration patterns of Wenceslaus Hollar (1607–77). 2–1 “Migrations—Journeys into British Art” exhibition at Tate Britain, London, 2012. View from the first room of the exhibition with the “Portraiture” section on the right and “New Genres” on the left, looking towards the following two sections with portraits by John Singer Sargent on the end wall. © Tate, London 2015. 2–2 Studio of Hans Holbein the Younger (1497/8–1543) King Henry VIII, c.1543–47, oil on oak panel, 237.5 x 120.7 cm. Petworth House and Park, West Sussex (The National Trust). © National Trust Images/Derrick E. Witty. 2–3 Benedetto Gennari (1633–1715), Elizabeth Panton, Later Lady Arundell of Wardour, as Saint Catherine, 1689, oil paint on canvas, 125 x 102.1 cm. Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015. 2–4 Joseph van Aken (c.1699–1749), An English Family at Tea, c.1720, oil paint on canvas, 99.4 x 116.2 cm. Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015. 2–5 Canaletto (Giovanni Antonio Canal) (1697–1768), London: The Old Horse Guards from St James’s Park, c.1749, oil paint on canvas, 117.2 x 236.1 cm. The Andrew Lloyd Webber Foundation, on long loan to Tate Britain, London. © Tate, London 2015. 3–1 El Greco, Laocoön, 1610–14, oil on canvas, 137.5 x 172.5 cm. © National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.

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3–2 Athanodoros, Hagesandros, Polydoros, The Laocoön Group, (restored by Fra Giovanni Angelo da Montorsoli in 1532), 40–20 AD, 208 x 163 x 112 cm. © Musei Vaticani, Rome. 4–1 Claude Laprade, Tomb of D. Manuel de Moura Manuel, Church of Our Lady of Penha, Vista Alegre-Ílhavo, Portugal. © Museu Vista Alegre, Vista Alegre Atlantis. 4–2 Jean Péru (attributed), Virgin with child Jesus, Façade of the Church of Saint Pierre, Avignon, France. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–3 Claude Laprade, Statues of “Fortune” and “Justice”, Coimbra University, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–4 Claude Laprade, Statue of “Medicine”, Museum Grão Vasco, Coimbra, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–5 Claude Laprade, Statue of “Theology”, Museum Grão Vasco, Coimbra, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–6 Claude Laprade, Reliquary bust, Collections of the Patriarchate of Lisbon, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–7 Claude Laprade, Atlantes of the main altar from the church of Our Lady of Pena, Lisbon, Portugal. © Sílvia Ferreira. 4–8 Claude Laprade, Statue of Saint John the Baptist, Cathedral of Viseu, Portugal. © Alcina Silva. 5–1 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 40–1950, fol. 7v. © Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (MS 40–1950, f7v). 5–2 Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 40–1950, fol. 73r, detail. © Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge (MS 40–1950, f73). 5–3 Edinburgh, Scottish Catholic Archives, Columba House, Blair’s College MS 1, fol. 4v. © Scottish Historical Collection, Blair’s College (MS 1, f4v). 5–4 London, British Library, Royal MS 15 E. VI, fol. 2v–3r. © The British Library Board (Royal MS 15 E VI ff2v–3). 5–5 London, British Library, Royal MS 15 E. VI, fol. 2v, detail. © The British Library Board (Royal MS 15 E VI f2v). 6–1 View of the front façade of Beaumont Hall, in Harkstead, Suffolk, built in 1675. © Clemence Mathieu. 6–2 View of the doorway at the rear of the left-hand wing of Seckford Hall, in Great Bealings Suffolk, built at the end of the sixteenth century. © Clemence Mathieu.

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6–3 View of a part of the wall painting, first floor of Otley Hall, in Otley, Suffolk, end of sixteenth century. © Clemence Mathieu, with permission of the owners of Otley Hall. 6–4 View of a detail of the wooden panelling, ground floor of Longstowe Hall, in Longstowe, Cambridgeshire, built in 1605 by Anthony Cage. © Clemence Mathieu, with permission of the owners of Longstowe Hall. 6–5 View of a detail of the wall painting, first floor of Polstead Hall, in Polstead, Suffolk, Around 1598. © Clemence Mathieu, with permission of the owners of Polstead Hall. 7–1 Ford Madox Brown, King Lear—Sketch for Cordelia at the Bedside of Lear (Lear's Awakening), 1844, brown ink over pencil on laid paper, 15.2 x 23.2 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, 1907P757. © Birmingham Museums Trust. 7–2 Ford Madox Brown, Parisina's Sleep—Study for Head of Prince Azo, 1842, black chalk, with ink wash, on grey paper, 43.2 x 31 cm, Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery, 1906P716. © Birmingham Museums Trust. 8–1 Maerten de Vos, St. Luke painting the Virgin, 1602, oil on panel, 270 x 217 cm, Koninklijk Museum voor Schone Kunsten, Antwerp. © Lukas – Art in Flanders VZW, photo Hugo Maertens. 8–2 Maerten de Vos, Portrait of Gillis Hooftman and his wife Margaretha van Nispen, oil on panel, 116 × 140.5 cm. © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. 8–3 Hieronymus Wierix (?) after Maerten de Vos, The excavation of the fortifications at Antwerp, 1577, engraving, 283 mm × 220 mm. © Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam. 8–4 Hieronymus Wierix after Maerten de Vos, St. Michael the Archangel, 1584, engraving, 291 mm x 202 mm, Bernard F. Rogers Collection. 1935.149, The Art Institute of Chicago. Photography © The Art Institute of Chicago. 8–5 Limeño artist, St. Michael the Archangel, Iglesia San Pedro, c. 1630, oil on canvas. San Pedro, Lima. © Aaron Hyman. 9–1 Johan Zoffany, Warren Hastings, 1783–84, oil on canvas, 72.4 x 61.6 cm (28 1/2 x 24 1/4 in). © Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Fund. 9–2 Johan Zoffany, James Graham of Rickerby and Barrock Lodge, 1786, oil on canvas, 90.8 x 66 cm (35¾ x 26 in). © Tullie House Museum &

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Art Gallery, Carlisle. Overall and detail (right) showing drying aberrations and brush imprints on the paint surface. 9–3 Johan Zoffany, Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match, c. 1784–88, oil on canvas, 103.9 x 150 cm (40 Ǭ x 59 in). © Tate, London 2011. 9–4 Johan Zoffany and an unknown painter, Colonel Mordaunt’s Cock Match, 1786–c.1790, oil on canvas, 119.1 x 86.6 cm (46Ǭ x 34ǩ in). © White’s Club, London. 9–5 Johan Zoffany, Patrick Heatly, c. 1783–87, oil on canvas, 96.5 x 81.9 cm (38 x 32½ in). © Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection. Overall photo with x–radiograph at right showing the overpainted architectural setting in which Heatly originally sat. 10–1 James Good Tunny (1820–87), William Shiels, 1854, albumen photograph. © The Royal Scottish Academy of Art & Architecture collections. 10–2 Wellstoood & Peters after John William Hill (1812–79), View of Charleston, 1855, engraving. © The Philadelphia Print Shop Ltd. 10–3 A. Cruse, after Thomas H. Shepherd, The Royal Institution, Edinburgh,1829, engraving. 10–4 Appleton J. W. after William Linton, A City of Ancient Greece with the return of a victorious armament, The New York Public Library Digital Collections. 10–5 William Shiels (1783–1857), The Poultry Buyer, c.1829 (possibly exhibited under the title A Hard Bargain, RSA, 1846, no.29), oil on canvas, 62 x 74.5 cm. Private collection © The Fine Art Society, Edinburgh. 11–1 John Henry Foley, Outram monument, 1874, Calcutta, from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–1876 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, frontispiece). 11–2 The Maidan, Calcutta, photograph from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–1876 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, opposite 38). 11–3 Plan of unveiling ceremony of Outram monument, 23 May 1874, from W.R. Tucker’s A Short Account of the Outram Statue, Calcutta 1860–1876 (1879). © The British Library Board (1764.a.3, opposite 33).

CONTRIBUTORS

Editors Jessica David is the associate conservator of paintings at the Yale Center for British Art, New Haven. She trained as a painting conservator at the Hamilton Kerr Institute, University of Cambridge and has worked as a conservator and researcher at the Frans Hals Museum, Haarlem. Her recent research has focused on the artistic practices, materials and influence of immigrant painters in Britain (including Johan Zoffany and Jacques Laurent Agasse) and she is now writing a technical catalogue of the YCBA’s collection of Tudor and early Stuart portraits as part of its “Reformation to Restoration” project. Matej Klemenþiþ is Professor in Art History at the University of Ljubljana. He has published and lectured extensively on various aspects of Baroque art and architecture in Central Europe, Venice and the Veneto, with particular emphasis on sculptors of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. His current research is dedicated to artistic mobility between Venice and former Habsburg lands as well as to the social status of sculptors in eighteenth century Venice. Kathrin Wagner is Lecturer in Art History at Liverpool Hope University. She gained her BA, MA and PhD from the Free University Berlin. After working in Museums in Berlin and New York and at Cardiff University, she joined Liverpool Hope University in 2011. Her research focuses on late medieval ecclesiastical art from Northern Europe and migration issues among early modern artists. In 2013 she organised the international conference Inter–Culture 1400–1850. Art, Artists and Migration at Liverpool Hope University and acted as lead editor of this volume.

Authors Tim Batchelor is Assistant Curator for British Art 1550–1750 at Tate Britain. He has worked as an assistant curator on a range of exhibition and display projects including Holbein in England (2006), Hogarth (2007) and Van Dyck & Britain (2009). He also curated a recent Spotlight display

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entitled Dead Standing Things: Still Life 1660–1740 (2012) which examined the introduction of still-life painting in Britain, and oversaw the rehang of the early historic rooms in the permanent display (2013). In 2007 he co-curated the collection display Migrant Artists and in 2012 was part of the team which curated the exhibition Migrations—Journeys into British Art. Julia Crispin is research assistant for medieval history at the University of Münster. She studied art history, medieval history and medieval archaeology at the Universities of Münster, York and Rome. In 2016, she was awarded her PhD by the University of Münster. She has published on the art patronage of Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, her research interests include the political history as well as the art history of late medieval Western Europe, urban history and cultural transfer between England and the Continent. Fintan Cullen is Professor of the History of Art at the University of Nottingham and is presently working on a book concerning exile and art. In 2012 he published Ireland on Show. Art, Union, and Nationhood (Ashgate) which examines the politics of display with regards to Ireland in the long nineteenth century. His previous publications include “Conquering England”. Ireland in Victorian London (with R.F. Foster, 2005) and The Irish Face. Redefining the Irish Portrait (2004). Sílvia Ferreira received her PhD in Art History from the University of Lisbon in 2010. She currently works as Associate Researcher at the Institute of Art History at the University Nova of Lisbon. In recent years, she has been involved in several research projects, e.g. Lisbon in Tiles before the Earthquake of 1755 (2009–12) and ROBBIANA—The sculptures of Della Robbia in Portugal (2012–14). Her main research interests are wood carved altarpieces in Portugal and the history of religious orders and brotherhoods in the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Laura MacCulloch is Curator at Royal Holloway, University of London. She specialises in British nineteenth-century art, and has written a number of publications on the subject. While at Birmingham Museum and Art Gallery she curated Ford Madox Brown: The Unofficial Pre-Raphaelite, catalogued paintings, prints and drawings for their award-winning PreRaphaelite online resource, and completed her PhD thesis on Brown’s works on paper.

202

Contributors

Clemence Mathieu’s PhD focused on manor houses and the culture of the gentry between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries in the County of Hainault (Belgium). Between 2012–13 she undertook postdoctoral research at the Department of Art History and Architecture in Cambridge. Her research focused on the cultural exchanges between the Low Countries and south-east England in manor houses during the sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries. Since April 2014 she has been curator of the International Mask and Carnival Museum in Binche, Belgium, where she undertakes research on masked rituals from all over the world. Stephanie Porras is Assistant Professor of Art History at Tulane University in New Orleans, specializing in early modern German and Netherlandish art. She is the author of Pieter Bruegel’s Historical Imagination (Pennsylvania State University Press, 2016), and co-editor and contributor to the exhibition catalogue, The Young Dürer: Drawing the Figure at the Courtauld Institute of Art. Currently, she is preparing a book-length study on Maarten de Vos entitled, Maarten de Vos: A Renaissance life in-between, part of which appears as articles in the 2014 and 2016 volumes of Nederlands Kunsthistorisches Jaarboek. Fiona Salvesen Murrell is Curator of Paxton House. She was awarded her PhD by the University of Aberdeen in 2013. She previously worked as Curator of Art at Bolton Museum, Towneley Hall Museum and Art Gallery, The Holburne Museum of Art, The Grosvenor Museum, and the National Museums of Scotland, curating many exhibitions, including the collaborative Creative Tension: British Art 1900–1950. She was awarded a Churchill Fellowship to study the Moran family of artists in the USA in 2006, and created two exhibitions based on her research for Bolton Museum. She has recently published in the Journal of the Scottish Society for Art History (2014–15) and The British Art Journal (2013). Anette Schaffer is a Lecturer in Art History at the University of Bern. She received her PhD in 2009 with a thesis on El Greco’s painting Laocoön (ed. 2013, Schwabe Verlag Basel). She was a fellow at the Istituto Svizzero di Roma (2007–08) and The Warburg Institute in London (2013). Her recent publications include: “Akzidenz und Essenz. Zum Topos des Lebendigen im Spannungsverhältnis zwischen El Greco und der Moderne”, in El Greco und der Streit um die Moderne: Fruchtbare Missverständnisse und Widersprüche in seiner deutschen Rezeption zwischen 1888 und 1939, “Goyas‚ Desastres de la guerra’ und die Idiosynkrasie moderner Augenzeugenschaft”, in Die Figur des Augenzeugen. Geschichte und Wahrheit im fächer– und epochenübergreifenden Vergleich. 

INDEX

Abate, Niccolo dell’, 15 Adams, John Quincy, 165 Aix-en-Provence, 56, 60 Alefounder, John, 151-152 Alleyns, Marten, 137 Allston, Washington, 165 Amiens, 75 Amsterdam, 32, 98, 134, 136 Antwerp, 12, 15–16, 29, 94, 98-99, 101-102, 104, 107, 113, 128138, 140 Arcadelt, Jacques, 132 Archer Shee, Martin, 170 Arles, 56 Asaf-ud-Daula, 145, 152-153, 155 Auerbach, Frank, ix Augsburg, 27 Aveiro, 54 Avignon, 53-54, 56, 57 Bacon, Francis, 49 Banks, Joseph, 148 Barbaro, Daniele, 40-42, 46, 49-50 Barker, Thomas Jones, 124 Barrackpore, 191 Bartolozzi, Francesco, 35 Basel, 6 Batoni, Pompeo, 9 Battersby, Mary, 121 Baylham, 106 Beatrice of Aragon, 10 Beauchamp, Margaret, 75-76, 81 Bedford, John of Lancaster, Duke of, 74, 84 Bellini, Giovanni, 44 Berlin, 14, 190 Bernini, Gianlorenzo, 56 Bernus, Jacques, 56-57

Birmingham, 23, 112, 116, 123, 190 Blickling, 102 Bogdani, Jacob, 32 Bologna, 15, 30 Bona of Savoy, 8 Bourges, 75 Boydell, John, 117 Brown, Ford Madox, 23, 112-125 Bruegel, Pieter, 130-131 Bruges, 12, 15, 113 Brussels, 8, 12, 133 Buda, 11 Bugatto, Zanetto, 7-8, 17 Buskell, family, 93 Buti, Laurent, 57 Byron, George Noel Gordon (Lord Byron), 115, 121-122 Calais, 112, 137 Calcutta, see Kolkata Cambridge, ix, 75-79, 99, 121, 131, 161 Cameron, Francis, 175 Canaletto, Antonio, 34 Canter, Joshua, 169 Carey-Thomas, Lizzie, 22, 24 Carlisle, 154 Carpentras, 57 Celle, 133 Cento, 30 Chakrabarti, Shami, 25 Chambers, Emma, 23 Chambers, William, 35 Chamusca, 61-62 Charles I, King of England, 29 Charles II, King of England, 16, 31 Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor, 11

204 Charles VI, King of France, 73-74, 82 Charles VII, King of France, 82-85 Charleston, 163, 165, 167-171, 178 Charlotte, Queen of Great Britain and Ireland, 146, 148, 150 Chartier, Alain, 85-86 Châteauxneuf-sur-Loire, 56 Chennai (Madras), 145, 151, 155, 159, 187 Chequers, 29 Chicago, 121, 139 Childerley, 102 Chorley, Claire, 149, 161 Cicero, 85 Cipriani, Giovanni Battista, 35 Clovio, Giulio, 131 Cobergher, Wenzel, 138 Cock, Hieronymus, 132 Cockburn, Henry, 177 Cocxie, Michel, 130 Coecke van Aelst, Pieter, 130-131 Cogdell, John S., 169 Coimbra, 54, 56–59 Colchester, 92 Collaert, Adriaen, 104 Collier, Edwaert, 33 Cologne, 16, 99 Como, 13 Constable, John, 174 Constantinople, 130 Cook, James, 148, 150 Copley, John Singleton, 164 Correggio, 44 Corsellis, family, 93 Cort, Cornelius, 102 Corvinus, Matthias, 10 Cottet, family, 93 Courrat, Claude Joseph, 54 Crispijn de Passe II, 98 Crome, John, 174 Cure, William, 104 Cursini, family, 93 Curtis, Penelope, 21, 22 d’Anjou, Marguerite, 75, 78, 81-82

Index da Silva, Miguel Francisco, 60, 67 Danby, Francis, 174 Dance-Holland, Nathaniel, 34-35 Dante, 124 David, Jacques-Louis, 114 De Best, family, 93 de Critz, John, the Elder, 12, 15-16 de Critz, Magdalen, 15 de Critz, Susanna, 15 de Heere, Lucas, 12, 15 de Holanda, Francisco, 40 de Jode, Gerard, 135 de Kock, Lucas Cornelis, 11-12 De Malines, family, 93 de Premierfait, Laurent, 85 de Vos, Barbara, 137 de Vos, Marten, 128–140 de Vos, Paul, 130, 132 del Barco, Gabriel, 54 del Piombo, Sebastiano, 42 Delacroix, Eugène, 114, 117-118, 120-122, 125 Delft, 12 Delhi, 113, 157, 187 Devis, Arthur William, 152 Donatello, 7, 190 Donne, Angel, 106 Dresden, 8 Drummond, George, 147 du Laurent, Gaspard, 56 Du Val (Duval), Charles Allen, 121 Dublin, 183-185, 189 Dubois, Ambroise, 15 Dubreuil, Toussaint, 15 Dudelange, 3 Duetecum, Lucas (or Johannes), 98 Duke Ernst II. Gotha-Altenburg, 10 Duke of Alba, 15 Dunkirk, 137 Dunlap, William, 165-167, 169 Earl of Leicester, 12 Edge, William, 104 Edinburgh, 16, 75, 78, 80, 163, 167, 171-175, 177-178 El Greco, 40-50

Artists and Migration 1400-1850: Britain, Europe and beyond Elizabeth, Queen of England, 15, 134 Elliot, Stephen, 169 Erasmus of Rotterdam, 6 Ernst, Archduke of Austria, 135 Etty, William, 174-175 Eutin, 10 Eworth, Hans, 11 Fabius, Scipio, 130 Fakhr, Leyla, 23 Farnese, Alessandro, 135 Fastolf Master, 73, 83, 86 Fastolf, John, 84 Felbrigg, 99, 103, 105 Finch, George, 9th Earl of Winchelsea, 149 Fitzralph, family 76 Flaxman, John, 118-119 Flicke, Gerlach, 12, 18 Florence, 42, 148-150 Floris, Frans, 102, 130-131, 133 Floris, Jacob, 104 Foley, John Henry, 183–193 Fontainebleau, 15 Fortrey, family, 93 Fouquet, Jean, 8 Francis I, King of France, 11, 15 Fraser, Alexander, 174 Fraser, Charles, 168 Fraser, James Baille, 157 Fréminet, Martin, 15 Freud, Lucien, ix Fuseli, Henry, 119-122, 124 Galle, Philip, 132 Garofalo, Benvenuto, 43-44 Garrick, David, 146-147 Gennari, Benedetto, 30-31 Geoffrey Tory, 7 George III, King of Great Britain and Ireland, 146 Gheeraerts, Marcus the Elder, 15, 16 Gheeraerts, Marcus the Younger, 12, 15, 18

205

Gheeraerts, Susanna, see de Critz, Susanna Ghent, ix, 15, 113, 165 Giambologna, 133, 190 Goethe, Johann Wolfgang, 10 Golding, William, 156 Goldman, Paul, 119 Goltzius, Hubrecht, 104 Goodwin, Paul, 24 Gosnold, Robert, the III, 98 Gosnold, Ursula, 98 Gossaert, Jan, 130 Graham, James, 153-156, 159 Granvelle, Antoine Perrenot, 133 Grapheus, Abraham, 128 Great Bealings, 95-96 Great Yarmouth, 92 Greenwich, 32 Greer, Bonnie, 25 Gregory, Robert, 156 Gretton, 95 Guercino, 31 Guidi, Domenico, 56 Guimarães, 67 Gupta, Nara Yani, 190 Güssing, 3 Halifax, 3 Hamilton, Thomas, 172 Hampden, John, 192 Harfleur, 84 Harkstead, 95 Hastings, Warren, 146, 150, 152153, 156, 158-159 Hatton, Christopher, 95 Hearn, Karen, 12, 15, 23 Heatly, Patrick, 159-160 Hemingstone, 106 Henning, John, 175 Henry V, King of England, 73-74, 83 Henry VI, King of England, 74, 78, 81 Henry VIII, King of England, viiiix, 6, 11, 27-29, 91 Himid, Lubaina, 26

206 Hobart, Henry, 102 Hodges, William, 146, 148, 150, 152 Hogarth, William, 27 Holbein, Hans, the Younger, ix, 5-7, 11, 18, 27-29 Hollar, Wenceslaus, 16-18 Hooftman, Gillis, 133-134 Hope, John, 177 Horenbout, Lucas, ix, 11 Houblon, family, 93 Howard, Thomas, Earl of Arundel, 16 Hueffer, Ford Madox, 112, 119, 122, 124 Humphrey, Ozias, 145, 161 Hunstanton, 104 Huybrechts, Adriaen, 138 Ílhavo, 54, 55 Impey, Elijah, 152, 158 Ipswich, 92, 99-101, 103-104 Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, 54, 56 James II, King of England, 31 James VI, King of Scotland, 15 James, Duke of York, 31 Jaubert, 121 Jay, William, 169 Jean d’Orléans, Count of Dunois, 74 Jerusalem, viii John of Lancaster, Duke of Bedford, 74 John V, King of Portugal, 66 Johnson, Cornelius, 27 Jones, Inigo, 91 Jones, Rica, 155, 156, 161 Joseph I, King of Portugal, 57 Joubert, Joana, 54 Kassel, 9 Kauffman, Angelica, 34 Kettle, Tilly, 150 King, Charles Bird, 164 Kolkata, 151-152, 155, 160-161, 183-187, 189-192

Index Köpenick, 14 La Coste, Simiane, 57 Lalljee, 157, 159-160 Langley, 102 Laprade, Claude, 53-67 Lassus, Orland, 132 Lawrence, Thomas, 173 Learner, Tom, 156 Leipzig, 14 Lely, Peter, 27 Leonardo da Vinci, 7, 11, 190 Leslie, Charles Robert, 165 Lima, 140–141 Linacre, 103 Linton, William, 174-175 Lippi, Filippino, 11 Lisaert, Barbara, see de Vos, Barbara Lisaert, Philips, 137 Lisbon, 54, 60-64, 66-67 Little Saxham, 106 Liverpool, 3, 122 Lombard, Lambert, 130 London, viii, ix, 6, 11, 12, 16-17, 21, 25-27, 29-35, 73-74, 82-84, 92, 94, 99, 103, 105-107, 118120, 124, 146, 147, 150-151, 155-158, 160, 163-165, 169, 172-175, 183-187, 189, 192 Longcroft, Thomas, 157 Longstowe, 99-100 Louis de Bourbon, 85 Louis IX, King of France (Saint Louis), 81 Louis Philippe, King of the French, 124 Lucknow, 145, 152-156 Ludovice, João Frederico, 62, 64, 66 Lyminge, Robert, 102 Lyon, 131 MacCauley, George, 169 Maclise, Daniel, 192 Macready, Charles, 116, 119 Madingley, 102

Artists and Migration 1400-1850: Britain, Europe and beyond Madras, see Chennai Madrid, 11, 152 Mafra, 62, 66 Malécy, Alexis de, 121 Manchester, 112, 115 Mann, Horace, 149 Marseille, 56 Martin, John, 174-175 Mary of Modena, 31 Massys, Quentin, see Metsys, Quentin Masucci, Agostino, 146 McQueen, Steve, 24 McTaggart, William, 23 Mengs, Anton Raphael, 8-9, 17-18, 146 Mercier, Philip, 32 Metsys, Quentin, 12, 128, 134 Michelangelo, 7, 42-44 Miereveld, Michiel Jansz. van, 12 Milan, 8, 13, 27 Miranda do Douro, 53-54 Mohamed, Lena, 24 Monamy, Peter, 32 Moore, Thomas, 6 Mor, Anthonis, 130 Moretus, Jan, 137 Morse, Samuel F. B., 165-169, 177 Moura Manuel, Manuel de, 54-55, 57 Mytens, Daniel, 16 Nadal, Geronimo, 140 Nantes, 137 Napier, Francis, 187-188 Naples, 10, 138 Nassau, George, 3rd Earl Cowper, 149-150, 159 New Haven, 147, 149-150, 159 New York, 3, 24, 163, 165-168, 176, 178 Nicholson, William, 172-175, 177 Norgate, Edward, 31 Norwich, 92-93, 172 O’Connell, Daniel, 183-185

207

Oporto, 64, 66-67 Ortelius, Abraham, 130, 133 Otley, 98 Outram, James, 183-192 Pacheco de Lima, Santos, 64, 67 Palavicino, family, 93 Panhuys, Peter, 134 Panton, Elizabeth, 30-31 Paris, 8, 12, 31–32, 72–75, 77, 8485, 112-115, 117-118, 125, 137138, 190 Perrenot de Granvelle, Antoine, 133 Péru, Jean, 56-57 Peter II, King of Portugal, 57, 60 Petigru, James Louis, 169 Phélypeaux, Louis, seigneur de la Vrillière, 56 Philadelphia, 35, 166, 168 Philip of Burgundy, 130 Piazzoli, Francesco, 13 Pietro Leopoldo, Grand Duke of Tuscany, 149 Plantin, Christopher 137 Pliny, 46-47, 102 Poinsett, Joel R., 169 Polier, Antoine, 159 Polstead, 101 Poona, 155 Porto, see Oporto Portsmouth, 26, 151 Pozzo, Andrea, 65 Prague, 14, 16 Primaticcio, Francesco, 15 Prowse, Elizabeth, 147 Puget, Pierre, 56, 60 Quatin, Jules, 121 Radermacher, Johan, 133 Raeburn, Henry, 170 Raphael, 7, 42 Redgrave, 103 Redgrave, Richard, 23 Regensburg, 146 Rembrandt, 122-124

208 René d’Anjou, 78 Retzsch, Friedrich August Moritz, 118–120, 125 Reynolds, Catherine, 73, 78, 81 Reynolds, Joshua, 35 Ridolfi, Carlo, 130, 132 Rome, viii, 8-10, 15, 33-34, 40-45, 47-48, 56, 60, 84-85, 119, 130133, 138 , 140, 146, 190 Rosen, Michael, 25 Rossetti, William Michael, 122 Rosso Fiorentino, 15-16 Rouen, 72-76, 78, 81, 84-86, 137 Roussel, Francois, 132 Saint-Germain-en-Laye, 31 Salamanca, Antonio, 132 Sanby, Paul, 150 Sandwich, 92 Santiago de Compostela, viii Sargent, John Singer, 24, 25 Selden, John, 192 Seville, 137 Sforza, Francesco, 8 Sforza, Galezzo Maria, 8 Shakespeare, William, 115-120 Sharp, Elizabeth, see Prowse, Elizabeth Shiels, William, 163-179 Siberechts, Jan, 31 Simmons, Charles, 169 Simonetti, Giovanni, 14, 18 Soane, John, 172, 174 Southampton, 92 Southwark, 99 Sparrow, William, 99-100 Speer, Martin, 146 Sproughton, 100 Stanyon, Edward, 102 Stendhal, 115, 117 Stenger, Jens, 152 Stockdale, 103 Stradanus, Jan, 132 Strasbourg, 16 Sturdee, Robert, 104 Stuttgart, 16

Index Sully, Thomas, 165, 177 Tacca, Pietro, 190 Talbot, John, Earl of Shrewsbury, 72-73, 75-76, 78-79, 81-82, 8486 Tangier, 16 Tate, Henry, 27 Tate, Nahum, 116 Teerlinc, Levina, 11 Thaxted, 106 Theewes, Lodovic, 105 Tintoretto, Jacopo, 130, 132 Tischbein, Johann Heinrich Wilhelm, 8-10 Tissot, James, 26 Titian, 11, 42-44 Torrigiano, Pietro, ix Toulon, 56, 60 Townsend, Joyce, 156 Troy, viii Troyes, 73, 82 Trumbull, John, 165-166 Tryan, family, 93 van Aken, Joseph, 32-33 van de Velde, Willem, the Elder, 32 van de Velde, Willem, the Younger, 32 van der Meulen, Steven, 11 van der Straet, Jan, see Stradanus, Jan van der Weyden, Rogier, 8, 130 van Dyck, Anthony, ix, 29 van Heemskerck, Maarten, 130-131 van Hemessen, Jan, 131 van Herweijck, Steven, 11 van Mander, Karel, 11-12, 130-131 van Miereveld, Michiel Jansz., 12 van Nispen, Margareta, 133 Van Peine, family, 93 van Roestraten, Pieter, 33 van Scorel, Jan, 130 Vanderlyn, John Jr, 159 Vanderlyn, John, 159 Vasari, Giorgio, 40, 42-44, 46

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Växjö, 3 Velázquez, Diego, 123 Venice, 34, 43-44, 130, 190 Vepen, John, 99 Verrocchio, 11, 190 Victoria, Queen of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, 119, 187 Vienna, 13, 149 Visconti, Bianca Maria, 8 Visegrád, 11 Viseu, 60, 62, 64–67 Vitruvius, 40-41, 46, 50 Vredeman de Vries, Hans, 94-95, 99, 104 Vredeman de Vries, Jan, 98 Vredeman de Vries, Paul, 98, 104 Vrints, Jan Baptista, 138

Watson, George, 170, 172, 174 West, Benjamin, 34-35, 164-165 White, J. B., 169 Wierix, Hieronymus, 136, 138-139 William the Conqueror, viii William, Duke of BrunswickLüneburg, 133 Williams, John Francis, 175 Wilson, Benjamin, 146 Wilson, John, 175 Winckelmann, Johann Joachim, 9 Windsor, 148-149, 153, 161 Withipoll, Edmund, 103 Wood, James, 169 Woolner, Thomas, 23 Wright, Charles C., 169 Wrocáaw, 14 Wyndham, Thomas, 99

Waldegraves, family, 101 Waldo, Samuel Lovett, 164-165 Wales, James, 155 Wappers, Gustave, 114-115, 121

Zoffany, Johan, 24, 145–161 Zoffany, Mary, 148 Zurich, 10